


Not a Doctor, Not an Angel Either

by cat_burglar



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Crushes, F/M, Family, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Original Character(s), Relationship(s), Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 27,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24911659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_burglar/pseuds/cat_burglar
Summary: [ON HIATUS] To this day, you are still very much grateful for Dutch and Arthur coming to your rescue when the O’Driscolls put a bullet in your father’s head after torching his clinic, and for the rest of the Van der Linde gang who gave you a home and second chance at a family (albeit a dysfunctional one). That was around a year ago. Oh, and yeah, you are hopelessly in love with John and Javier obviously has a crush on you. [ON HIATUS]
Relationships: Javier Escuella & Reader, Javier Escuella & You, Javier Escuella/Reader, Javier Escuella/You, John Marston & Reader, John Marston/Reader, John Marston/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 135





	1. Colter

“I. Am. Fucking. Cold. Fucking cold! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” you cursed under your breath. The layers of coats and shirts underneath only helped a little. You were shivering, hugging the worn-out leather medical bag which you inherited from your late father. You made your way to a log cabin next door, chanting profanities to the harsh cold of the Grizzly Mountains.

“Oh! How I’d give my left arm for some warmth in the southern heat!” You remarked grimly as you flung the door open to let yourself inside.

“Careful now, we still need that left arm o’ yers to stitch this boy up!” Hosea chuckled. He was sitting near the fire; Jack cosily sat beside him. You realised that your grim thought came out way louder than you originally intended.

You brushed the snow from your coat and walked towards John Marston, who was lying down on a bed. He looked awful and in agony. His face mangled and ridden with coagulated blood.

He looked exactly as you had imagined when you overheard someone saying something about John being attacked by wolves in the mountains. Arthur and Javier have announced their arrival earlier. You approached to see how John was doing, but before you could take a good look, someone had caught your arm from behind. You turned to see who it was. It was Arthur. He instinctively instructed you to get your things. You nodded and did exactly that.

As you approached John, his eyes met yours. You sensed some level of relief from him knowing that you, the de facto Van Der Linde doctor – whatever they call it, were there to take care of him.

Like clockwork, you dropped your worn medical bag on the floor and kneeled beside him. You worked with an extraordinary sense of urgency. You weren't a doctor, but your father was. You certainly picked up a lot of things from spending most of your childhood and teenage years hanging around his clinic, watching him as he treated his patients day in and day out.

John winced and groaned in pain as you started working on his face.

You had limited medical supplies, but given the whole situation the Van Der Linde Gang was in just a few days ago, it will have to do – you will have to make the most out of it. You must – you can’t have anyone dying on you again. No. Not after Blackwater. Not after Davey, Jenny, Sean, and Mac.

Abigail watched you impatiently. She caught your attention, and you turned to look at her. She looked very worried. Her tearful eyes scanning your face, looking for any sign of hope, for some reassurance from you, that John – his John, the father of her son, will live.

As if you read her mind, you mustered some courage to hide your panic and worry. You gave her a weak smile.

“He’ll be okay, Mrs Marston.” You reassured her. Her anxious face eased a little. You turn to look at John again, and repeated: “You’ll be okay, Mr Marston.” He winced again as you cleaned the scratches on his face.

“It’s Ms Roberts. We ain’t married yet.” Abigail corrected you. Then she shifted her attention back to John.

After a few good minutes, you were done. You sighed in relief. John had passed out in the middle of it. Abigail had dozed off too a few minutes earlier. She badly needed that, you figured. She couldn’t sleep for days, as she was anxiously waiting for John to come back. Heck, everyone needed some rest, after all, you’ve been through in Blackwater.

Your strained eyes scanned the room, realising that you have been so engrossed with your patient you didn’t realise Hosea and Jack aren’t there anymore. It was just you, John, and Abigail in the room, and you were the only one awake.

You turn to look at your patient again. He stirred a bit, then he was still and calm.

You looked at his face, feeling a mixture of pity and annoyance for the man before you. That familiar feeling of affection you had for John was starting to surface again, and you dreaded the thought.

Stop, [Y/N]! You snapped yourself out of it. You reminded yourself coldly that you buried all the love you thought you had for him a long time ago.

“You are an idiot, John Marston.” You muttered, shaking your head.

You tidied up and picked up the bloodied pieces of clothing on the floor. You gathered your things and stood up. You turned towards the door. You heard him cough and clear his throat before muttering something behind you. You paused in your steps.

“Thank you, [Y/N]. Appreciate it.” He said. You did not look at him. You just nodded instead. You felt your face turn red and you didn’t dare show him any of that. Without turning back, you headed outside. You closed the door behind you, and you found yourself back in the cold once more. A groan escaped your chapped lips.

Your stomach grumbled, and you were suddenly reminded you only had a single bite to eat yet since that piece of bread you had for breakfast.

***


	2. Of Whiskey and Stew

The sun had just set, and it made the cold even more unbearable, unforgiving. You walked as fast as you could as far as your shivering legs allowed you. Your teeth chattered.

The cabin where everyone came to gather for warmth, company, drinks, and food (if there were any) was just across John and Abigail’s. As you neared the cabin, the voices inside grew louder. They were voices you’ve grown quite familiar with for the last couple of months.

You let yourself in, hoping Mr Pearson got some relatively decent meal for everyone this time.

“Good evening, Ms. [Y/L/N].” Reverend Swanson acknowledged your presence. Mary-Beth and Tilly too.

“How is he?” Hosea approached you.

“He’s okay. He’ll live. That is if the cold doesn’t get to him first.” You told him grimly, making sure Jack didn’t hear you.

Hosea nodded in agreement, being bitterly reminded of the situation that Dutch got everyone in this time.

“Well, thank you for taking care of Johnny Boy, [Y/N]. We don’t know what we’d do without you.” Hosea patted you in the back.

***

You were definitely in a better mood after dinner. To your sheer delight, Mr Pearson was able to prepare some venison stew for everyone – a relatively decent meal by Colter standards. Charles was able to hunt some deer earlier. “Thank god for Charles!” You thought.

Contented with your dinner, you headed out. You were looking forward to getting some reading done before a good night’s sleep. You heard half-drunken voices nearby. You could discern Javier, Arthur, Lenny, and Uncle’s voices and hearty laughs. You could also hear Karen.

Ah, they are drinking again. Good to know they are in a better spirit tonight – Arthur and Javier finding John was one small win they needed amid all of these.

You were tempted to just head there and join them, but the promise of a good book, your bed, and some semblance of warmth under the blankets was safer and the more convenient for the introvert that you are.

Javier caught sight of you as you walked past them. He stood up from his seat and tipsily beckoned for you to join them. He was normally friendly with you. You’ve always felt comfortable around him.

“[Y/N]! Join us! It will help with the cold!” He hollered. The others chimed in. You weren’t so much for socialising, but they were good people, mostly. To this day, you are still very much grateful for Dutch and Arthur coming to your rescue when the O’Driscolls put a bullet in your father’s head after torching his clinic and for the rest of them who gave you a home and second chance at a family (albeit a dysfunctional one).

Javier was right. Whiskey and bourbon now seemed more enticing than being alone in your bed. “What the hell”, you shrugged and joined them. Javier offered the empty seat next to him. He clumsily prodded your leg with a bottle of whiskey as you sat down next to him. You accepted it and thanked him, taking a rather big swig before passing it to Uncle. You attempted to conceal your wince, as Javier and the rest cheered you on. The liquid instantaneously warmed your throat and chest then much to your liking. For a moment there, you felt good, and it was quite nice.

You got more talkative as the evening grew darker. You were never much of a big drinker, but you did enjoy good company on occasions.

You didn’t realise that you were on the verge of drunkenness when you decided to call it a night. You stood up, tried your best to balance yourself, Javier stood up too, as if on reflex, albeit unsteadily. He braced to catch you as if in anticipation, you were going to lose your balance and fall on your bum, but you succeeded and was able to stand up straight. You and Javier sniggered, amused at the state of your drunken selves.

He insisted you take one more swig of whiskey, “One for the road.” He encouraged you.

You beamed a wide smile at Javier, snatched the bottle, and chugged once more. You closed your eyes, as you gulped down the fiery liquid. With that, you waved him good night.

“Adios, Javier.” Your speech slurred, patting his chest.

“Buenas noches, Señorita!” He gave you a bow, amused at your drunken state and thankful for accepting his invitation.

You bid the others goodnight, much to their dismay. You started on your intoxicated journey to your cabin. Your feet crisscrossed as you navigated through the snow – so far so good, but your eyelids were getting heavier by the minute.

Not long after you have left the group, you heard Abigail, calling you from their cabin.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]!” She ran after you, ignoring the cold. You stopped on your tracks and turned to face her. Your world slowly starting to spin around you wildly.

She smelled the strong smell of whiskey and cigarettes on you and hesitated for a bit. She then proceeded to explain “John’s burning up. I don’t know what to do. I am so sorry for asking this, but could you just drop by real quick to check on 'im?”

It took you a few seconds to fully process what the woman in front of you was babbling about.

Ah, John Marston, you thought. Here you were just minding your own business, but still, he manages to pull you back in – back into this… this whole mess called John Marston. Idiot, John. [Y/N], the bigger idiot! An internal monologue ran in your intoxicated mind.

You knew there was no point saying no to Abigail. She’s just going to beg you again.

“Errkay, Ms Roberts.” You nodded (which was a bad idea because that made your head spun wildly again). She took your arm and steadily led you back to their cabin.

***


	3. A Million Pieces

Abigail led you back in the cabin, much to John’s annoyance.

The lamp near his bed illuminated your face. Your face was flushed, and with your breath smelling of whiskey and cigarettes, he figured you had a few drinks before Abigail dragged you back in here. It wasn’t entirely unlike you. He had seen you drunk on rare occasion. Maybe he wasn’t just expecting it. Not tonight.

“Abigail shouldn’t have dragged you back in,” he said to you apologetically. Even at his sorry state, he was still genuinely more concerned for others, you thought.

“It’s fiiine, John.” You slurred, your eyelids half shut, and you beamed at him. Sober you would never have the courage to look at him directly without melting into water.

An awkward silence hung in the air in the room as you checked on him. Abigail left you two in your corner and shifted her attention Jack to tuck him in.

“How many have you had?” John asked, his attempt to rid the air of awkwardness.

You held your index finger and thumb in front of John’s face. You sniggered, amused at yourself. John, however, was not. A million things were running through his head, and another million running through yours, even in your drunk-ass state. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the night for these things to be brought to light. Not for you anyway. God knows what’s running in that head of his.

He realised he was staring at your face a little longer than he should be, he snapped himself out of it before you – or Abigail, for that matter, could catch him in his trance. He turned his head the other way.

You gave John some herbs to help with his fever, and his temperature gradually went down. Seeing that your job here was done, you stood up clumsily. He shifted to try and help you get up but instantly regretting this as he felt a sharp pang of pain shoot up on his leg.

You bid the couple good night. Your world started to spin wildly again as soon as you started heading for the door. You could’ve sworn the door wasn’t THAT far. Are they playing tricks on you?

Ultimately, you decided to give up all hope and started to crumble to the floor inelegantly.

Abigail rushed to you and tried her best to keep you on your feet. She failed at that. As they say, people are twice as heavy when they are drunk and about to blackout.

I am not drunk. No, it wasn’t the alcohol; you were just tired. Just goddamn tired of everything. You defended yourself in your head.

“I’m sorry I’m just really tired. Can I rest here for a bit?” you asked rhetorically. You pulled yourself away from her and clumsily settled on the floor, resting your back against the wall. The last thing you saw was John’s blurry face, looking at your direction.

All you’ve wished for was for him to look at you, but not like this, not when you’re passed out drunk – what a cruel twist of fate you thought.

You closed your eyes. John and Abigail started to argue about something. You heard your name thrown out here and there in the middle of it, but really at this point, you didn’t care what they were arguing about anymore. You just need some goddamn sleep. You lulled yourself to sleep, their voices fading out slowly.

Not long after you’ve passed out on their floor. The couple’s argument died down; Abigail went out to ask for help. She and John figured you’d appreciate it in the morning if you were brought back to your bed to sleep comfortably. She got hold of Arthur, who was also heading back to his cabin.

“Oh, Arthur. It’s [Y/N]. I asked her to check on John. See, he was burning up, but I didn’t realise she was drunk. She’s passed out on our floor.” She explained in a rush, pointing to their cabin.

Arthur nodded his head. “Goddamit, Marston!” He cursed, obviously annoyed at the fact that John was hassling everyone at this ungodly hour – and the fact that he and Javier just saved him from becoming wolf dinner hours ago!

“John, I see you're being an inconvenience to everyone… as always.” Arthur greeted him sarcastically as he entered. John didn’t respond. He hadn’t anything to say, this time it was true.

Arthur turned to you and saw you slumbering peacefully on the floor, your mouth slightly agape. He placed his arm under your knees and the other around your back and scooped you up with ease. He bid Abigail and John good night. Abigail thanked you as she opened the door for both of you.

Arthur was big and built. He had no problem carrying you back to your cabin, which happened to be just next door.

He led himself in and carefully settled you down on your bed. He put some blankets over you to keep you warm, which unintentionally roused you in your drunken slumber. You opened your eyes slightly and recognised Arthur Morgan beside your bed. You realised it was he who carried you back to your bed.

“Thank you, Mr Morgan!” You waved your arm limply at him.

“Good night, Ma'am.” He tipped his hat and made his way for the exit.

Half-awake, you started to remember your display of drunken and foolish behaviour in front of John just moments earlier.

“A million, hic! It’s in a million pieces, Arthur.” You blurted out before Arthur could make his exit.

Arthur stopped and turned to indulge you in your intoxication, “What’s in a million pieces, Ms. [Y/L/N]?”

“My heart, Mr Morgan. My heart is in a million pieces.” You gestured in the air as if you were preaching to an invisible congregation.

***


	4. Hung Over

There were numerous possibilities as to how last night could have ended, you groggily recalled, but being laughed at and mocked at by Arthur Morgan was one of the things you least expected.

_“My heart, Mr Morgan. My heart is in a million pieces.”_

_It took a few good seconds, Arthur shifting his head from you to the direction of John’s cabin and back to you – he had figured it out, an oh-that-explains-things expression on his face._

_“[Y/N], you are young, smart, and capable of a lot of things; I can see that. But I didn’t take you for being capable of making the biggest idiot of yourself.” He was suppressing his laugh but could not hold it any longer as he spoke the last few words of his sentence. He snorted boisterously. He was still laughing as he exited the room cabin. Well, that certainly entertained him for the night._

You rubbed your eyes. Your head throbbed like hell. Now you were regretting all that whiskey you drunk and Javier’s coaxing you take ‘one for the road.’

You groaned, you felt like puking. You wanted to stay longer in bed, bury yourself under the sheets (hoping the others would just forget about you and your drunken folly last night), and just nurse this hangover until it vanishes. But you knew if you don’t get your ass up, Ms Grimshaw would storm here any minute now to give you a hell of an earful.

***

You got up and straightened yourself up and tidied your hair. You made your way to get some breakfast before you started your day. You squinted, as your eyes transitioned from the dimness of your cabin to the sunlight outside – at least the weather’s looking better today than yesterday. You just hoped you didn’t bump into anyone from last night.

You saw Javier with his rifle on hand. He was on guard duty. His face lit up as he saw you approaching.

“Ah, such a lovely face!” he teased you, fondly recalling your company last night over fire and whiskey. “How are you, Chulita?” he kidded you, knowing fully well you are hungover from last night.

“Like shit, Javier.” You answered. He laughed satisfyingly at your demise. He quite enjoyed toying with you.

You went inside and saw Arthur Morgan sitting by the fire. The girls were there too, huddled together.

Great, ain’t it! Just your luck. Do you think he’s forgotten all about it?

“Here you go, dear.” Mary-Beth handed you a piece of bread and a cup of coffee.

“You could just sit here, y’know.” Arthur slyly remarked. Your paranoid self swore he could burst out laughing any minute now. Without much choice, you accepted his offer and carefully seated yourself next to him.

You lost your appetite but pretending to nibble on the stale bread and sipping on the tepid coffee did help make it look like nothing was bothering you.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am. Your secret’s safe with me.” Arthur poked you gently as he gave you a mischievous wink. You heard him laugh again and you blushed in embarrassment, causing you to swallow a rather big chunk of bread involuntarily. Before you could say anything in response, Arthur stood up, still amused at your revelation from the night before, and bid the ladies farewell. Dutch was waiting for him, something you heard about going after the O’Driscolls and hitting them first before his gang hit you.

You scanned the room, finishing your piece of bread and sipping what’s left of your cup. You noticed an unfamiliar face huddled among the ladies. She had blonde hair and brown eyes. She looked like a hardened woman, but at her current state, she had seen better days. A few years older than you, you assumed. She must be the woman they rescued from the O’Driscolls a few nights ago. Poor thing – and to think just around a year ago, that was you – traumatised at the sight of your father’s execution at the hands of the O’Driscolls and couldn’t stop crying for days on end.

Javier was among the first to befriend you. He tried his best to cheer you up and give you some sense of normalcy after all you’ve been through. When he wasn’t out running ‘errands’ with the others, robbing homesteads or stagecoaches, he’d take you fishing with him.

On occasions, John hung out with you and Javier, and that’s when you found yourself slowly falling for John Marston – how could you not, though? He was handsome, and he wore that smile that made you crumble and melt inside, and he gave you that playful look with his eyes, whenever the three of you were up to no good or just hanging around the camp.

The people around always remarked he wasn’t the brightest, but he did make you laugh when he joked around you, and at times when he innocently flirted with you. And although you had the biggest crush on him, you have constantly tried your best to never let his seemingly innocent playfulness with you mean anything else.

“He’s like that with other women.” You shrugged.

A few days after you’ve settled in your new home, Dutch handed you over your dad’s medical bag – it was among the few things they were able to ‘salvage’ from your dad’s clinic. He thought you’d like to have it as a keepsake. Lucky for him and the rest of the Van der Linde gang, you picked up a couple of things from watching your dad work. He taught you everything you know – from poultices and tonics to stitching wounds. You were thankful for that, and you’d like to believe that Dutch and the rest are as well. It gave you purpose. At least when Dutch took you in under his wing, it didn’t feel like you were just another mouth to feed.

You brushed the breadcrumbs off your skirt. As much as you disliked it, you offered to wash the dishes for the day. Figured you could simply fade into the background that way and helped keep Ms Grimshaw off your back, at least for now. You did try arguing with her at first, making your case that you shouldn’t be doing dishes or laundry anymore, as you mend the wounded, but she was having none of it.

“I appreciate the work that you do, Ms. [Y/L/N], I really do. But it’s not every day you are mending the wounded, is it?” she snapped back at you, and you never dared argue with her ever again.

And here you are now, washing dishes.

“Washing dishes…the exciting life of an outlaw” you chuckled remembering Tilly’s usual quips.

Your head was still hurting, and you were lost in thought when you felt a tug in your skirt. You looked to see what or who it was and surprised to see little Jack.

“What is it, Jack?”

“Mama told me to tell you that you left your bag in our cabin.”

***


	5. Not a Doctor, Not an Angel Either

“Hey, you.” John greeted you as he saw you enter the room with Jack. He was sitting on his bed. 

“Hey. How are you feeling?” startled at the sight of him. It’s not that you weren’t expecting him to be there, it was just, on your way, you hoped he’d be fast asleep or something, save you from an awkward encounter with him after your folly last night.

“In a lot of pain, but I’ll live. Can’t say I had worse, but I’ll live. Got a really good doctor to look after me.”

“I am not a doctor, John.”

My father was a doctor. He had a clinic and lived a life that wasn’t anything like this. He didn’t run with outlaws or mended them when they get shot, punctured, or beat up. Your father, throughout his profession, didn’t question the morality of his patients as they walked in his clinic. He didn’t have second thoughts about whether treating them was the right thing to do or not - because unlike these people, they were normal people living decent lives. They didn’t get a fever because they robbed stagecoaches or held up train passengers, they didn’t get shot at because they were in a shootout with the law right after robbing banks.

What are you doing here, anyway? That was a question the other part of you had constantly been asking. Well, for one, you didn’t have anywhere else to go to. It was just you and your dad all you’ve known in your life, and now he’s gone. It wasn’t that you hated your life now – you are thankful for it every day. It’s just that there is that persistent thought that kept scratching at the back of your head – if not this, then what?

“An angel then.” John’s low, husky voice pulled you back in from your thoughts.

“I ain’t an angel either.” You courteously dismissed.

“What are you then?” He asked.

“I… I’m just me, John.” It was all you could say to him.

“Well... Thank you, [Y/N], for being you.” He smiled gently; his eye that wasn’t covered in bandages met yours. You immediately looked away as you felt your face warming up. He looked like shit, but damn if you didn’t find him attractive in his union suit.

“Great that you’re feeling better…” You trailed off, your eyes following Jack, who was making his way to his corner in the room. “I just dropped by to get my things.”

“Yeah, you were so drunk last night.”

“I’m sorry. It was embarrassing what I did.”

“Don’t be. Looks like you had a lot of fun.” He responded rather unsympathetically. You sensed a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“I did.” You admitted.

“Good for you. Looks like Arthur had a bit of his fun too. Heard him laughing quite loudly from your place all the way here.” He forced a smile. If he was teasing you, he was not doing a good job at it.

Your brows furrowed at him caught off guard by his remark.

“Oh, it wasn’t anything like that, John.” You shook your head.

“Nah, say no more. Just saying, good for you both.” Suddenly realising how he just sounded, his mood shifted, and he cheerfully dismissed the subject. There was an uncomfortable silence between you two.

You picked your bag up and turned to him once more.

“Well, I’m already here. I might as well check your stitches.” You hesitantly walked to him. When he didn’t react, you sat next to him, leaving a few safe inches between you and him. “May I?” Your hand slowly reached for the bandages on his face. He nodded, never looking at you.

“There ain’t any signs of infection on them stitches, so you should be okay.” You said reassuringly. When he didn’t respond, you tried to cautiously steer the conversation back to the subject earlier.

“Whatever you are thinking, it ain’t nothing like that.” You spoke softly and truthfully.

“Mm-hmm.” He hummed.

“Do you have something you’d like to say, John Marston?” Starting to become slightly annoyed at his sudden passive-aggressiveness towards you.

“Nothing, just thank you… for everything.” He said with finality.

“Okay. I’ll see you around, John.” You said, feeling disappointed. Not sure why you’d hope this conversation would lead elsewhere – that was stupid of you to hope.

Abigail came in as you were just leaving. Not entirely surprised as she did ask Jack to tell your things were still there.

“Oh, Ms. [Y/L/N]. The boys just came back. Dutch is looking for you.” She said as she approached John, sitting right where you were just a few moments ago.

***


	6. Angel from Nowhere

_(John’s POV)_

It was around a year ago when John Marston first laid eyes on her. The camp was fast asleep, except for those on guard duty. They had woken up to Dutch’s arrival. He yelled for help, and those who were patrolling rushed to him. They immediately saw the girl in front of Dutch.

The men helped her get down the horse. Her eyes filled with fear, and she shuddered at the touch of those who were helping her. She was dressed in her nightgown and a coat that looked too big for her frame. It had been raining when they rode to the camp, so she and Dutch have been soaking wet. Her nightgown clung to her pale skin – John thought she looked like an angel from one of those Victorian paintings he’d seen during one of those ‘runs’ with the gang.

In the middle of the commotion, the girl had passed out. Bill was able to carry her with ease to one of the tents. Ms Grimshaw and the girls helped her get out of her wet clothes and into some dry, warm ones. Ms Grimshaw stayed with her until dawn. She hasn’t woken up since and slept almost the entire day after.

Dutch shared with the gang the next morning over the campfire that he and Arthur were at the Sherriff’s office. The two were looking into some bounties among other prospects, when she barged in, dressed in her nightgown, and looking distraught.

“Good God! What’s wrong, [Y/N]?” The sheriff stood up. Alarmed at the sight of the girl in her nightgown. He instinctively took off his coat and wrapped it around her.

“There’s… there are some men at the clinic… Dad’s treating one of them now… but” she paused to catch her breath. “I think they’re bad men, Sherriff. There’s about 10 of them, and they’re all heavily armed. They got the house surrounded.”

It didn’t take long for the Sherriff, as well as Dutch and Arthur to assemble and mount their horses. The Sherriff insisted the girl stay there with the Deputy, but she was having none of it, her dad was still there. The Sherriff didn’t want to waste any time arguing with the girl, so he agreed, as long as she rode with the Deputy and that she kept a safe distance.

The group arrived at the clinic a few minutes after. The armed men outside recognised Dutch and Arthur and instantly pulled their guns out and aimed them at the men approaching. Dutch, Arthur, and the Sherriff dismounted their horses. The Deputy, as instructed, stayed with the girl at a safe distance.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” The Sherriff greeted.

Colm O’Driscoll came out of the door; his left arm was in a sling. He held the girl’s father at gunpoint. Amused to see Dutch and Arthur with the Sherriff, he announced he’ll let the doctor go if the Sherriff will leave them be and let them escape the town unpursued.

It was a blur at that point, as it was never known who fired the first shot. Colm had shot the father, and the girl screamed in horror as it rained bullets. The clinic was set ablaze. A bullet landed on the deputy’s eye and on the sheriff’s chest too, but Arthur and Dutch survived and were able to kill a couple of O’Driscolls. Unfortunately, Colm and some of his men used this opportunity to slip and escape unharmed, much to Dutch’s frustration.

When hell died down, it started to rain heavily, putting out the fire. Dutch held the girl firmly while he calmly reassured her. He instructed Arthur to try and get some medical supplies for the camp. With that, Dutch left Arthur to his task, he mounted The Count with the girl and rode back to the camp like lightning.

Poor girl, John thought as he overheard Dutch tell her story. The sight of the girl he had seen last night filled his thoughts as he went on his day. He was not quite sure what to make of it, but there was something about her – the thought and sight of her, fascinated him as he couldn’t take his eyes off the tent where the girl was sleeping.

***

The day passed and evening came. It was John’s turn at guard duty. He was patrolling the grounds around the camp when he suddenly heard a rustle from a shrub nearby. With his gun in one hand and a lamp in the other, he cautiously followed the noise. When he found the source of the noise, he held the lamp in front of him, and to his surprise, he saw the girl’s face again. Her face was pale, and her eyes held the same fear he saw on them last night.

Without uttering a sound, the girl panicked and scuffled on the ground. Her hand desperately fumbled on the ground for anything she can use to defend herself. Her hand found a rock, and she aimed it threateningly at John (as if it were going to help).

John, upon realising, it was just the girl, relaxed and put his gun down. He slowly knelt on one knee in front of her, placing the lamp on the ground and holding his hands up in the air.

“You’re okay. I ain’t gonna hurt you, okay?” John spoke reassuringly.

“You’re okay.” He repeated calmly in his low, husky voice.

“Looks like you don’t remember where you are or what happened to you last night.” He continued. “Here, let me help you up.” John offered his hand in front of the girl. The girl took a few seconds to process what was happening, her face now looking more confused than terrified, she took his hand, and he carefully helped her up.

A weak ow was the first sound John heard from her. He examined her and realised she had twisted her ankle.

“Looks like you hurt your foot too. Come on, lemme help you get back to your tent.” He said. He held the girl’s wrist gently, placing her arm on his shoulders, his other hand at the girl’s waist. The girl limped, but slowly but surely, they made it back to her cot.

“My name’s John. What’s yours?” John asked as he assisted the girl settle on the cot.

“[Y/N].” the girl answered softly.

***


	7. Love Advice from Hosea Matthews

You’ve only seen John once or twice again since your awkward encounter with him that day. Both of you have barely spoken anything to each other than the usual exchange of “Hi,” “Hello,” “How are you feeling?” “How’s your face,” “I’m fine,” and “Thank you.”

John didn’t seem to make a fuss over it. It seemed it didn’t bother him entirely at all. You thought he and Abigail looked sweet when they weren’t arguing over something or when they weren’t at each other’s throats about John not ‘manning up’. Looks like he's managing just fine without you much to your disappointment. On the other hand, it has been a struggle for you. It certainly felt as if you’re left alone to brave the storms that have been raging in your heart.

After a successful train robbery, the day had come when it was time again for the Van der Linde gang to move. The caravan was to head south, to a place called Horseshoe Overlook, you overheard Uncle saying. The thought of warmth and sunlight did at least help brighten up your dreary week.

“There’s room here for one more, Ms. [Y/L/N].” you heard Hosea hollered to you. You were the last person to board the wagons, and you caught his attention while you were figuring out how to utilise the remaining space in the back of one of the wagons without smelling Uncle.

“Come on. We ain’t gonna bite.” Arthur added. Hosea patted on the space next to him. You sighed in relief and gladly accepted his invitation. Hosea and Arthur smelled better and nicer than Uncle by leaps and bounds.

“So dear, how are you?” Hosea initiated.

“I’ve been good. Thank you, Mr Matthews. How’s your cough?”

“Better. The one you’ve given me last time is helping.” He answered.

When he didn’t hear a response from you, “What’s been eating you, [Y/N]? You seemed distracted since Colter.” He asked.

“Nothing.” You shook your head in denial. “It was just the cold.”

“Look, if you gotta keep a secret, don’t go shooting whiskey then announcing it for everyone to know. Hosea here is better at keeping secrets than me.” Arthur sighed.

You shot him a look from where you were sitting as if he just betrayed you – but then again, you thought Hosea was nice, and he was more grand/fatherly than how you felt towards Dutch for that matter – as wise but more level-headed. It did feel like you could talk to him more than Arthur or anyone else about these things.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” There was no point in bottling it up anymore, and you desperately needed to talk to someone about it. After pouring your heart out to Hosea like a teenage hopeless romantic, you impatiently waited for his response.

“Look, dear. John’s lost. Long before you joined us, he was gone for a year, to god knows where. We had no idea, but Jack being born, he didn’t seem to take it well, and there’s Abigail being so persistent and all. Maybe he felt he wasn’t ready.”

“He’s a coward, Hosea.” Arthur scoffed.

“We all are, Arthur, at some point in our lives,” Hosea said sympathetically. “Like I said, he’s lost, and he doesn’t know what he wants – if it’s a family he wants or, or something else. But at the end of the day, it’s his decision. He’s gotta do what makes him happy. I just hope when the time comes for him to decide, he hears it from all sides you know, including yours.” Hosea’s eyes met yours.

“So, do I just walk up to him and tell him I’m hopelessly in love with him?” You asked.

“Woah, woah…easy there, cowgirl.” Arthur said, slightly surprised at your sudden hastiness.

“All in good time, dear. All in good time.” Hosea chuckled, then he shifted to a more serious tone when he continued, “I just hope too, that when that time comes, you’re 100% sure of what you are getting yourself into.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just between you and me, okay? And Arthur, too.” He said, cautiously looking around for any ears prying about before continuing.

“I know how Dutch is all about sticking together as a family and loyalty – but you’re young, [Y/N]. You had a normal life before all of this. Got your whole life ahead of you. You can just turn around and leave this all behind, pursue doctoring like your father. Start a family, live a normal life again!” Hosea gestured in the air. He said it with a hint of sadness in his voice.

You didn’t want to hear any of it, but deep down, you knew he was right.

Hosea, as if he read your thoughts, continued “it’ll break Dutch’s heart, mine too, and Arthur’s...”

You looked at Arthur, who just nodded in agreement. You were unsure if he was agreeing about her leaving and turning your life around or agreeing about breaking everyone's hearts if you do decide to leave.

“You gotta do, what you gotta do, [Y/N]. Alright?” Hosea added, he shifted his tone again in hopes of lightening up the conversation.

“Now, lemme tell you how Bessie and I met. Arthur has heard this story a dozen times, so just don’t mind me okay, Arthur?”

With genuine interest, you listened to Hosea’s fond recollection of his time with Bessie on the rest of your journey to Horseshoe Overlook. However, you just couldn’t help yourself drifting back to the thoughts you knew were in your mind for the longest time, but never dared entertain them further until now, when Hosea had put them into words, saying them out loud for you to hear them for yourself.

***


	8. Your First Bar Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You tag along with Javier, Bill, and Charles when they head to the local saloon for some drinks and women. Based on the Americans at Rest mission in Chapter 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter up! Thought I’d give the reader a break from the brooding John Marston and give her and Javier some quality time. ~

Weeks passed since the gang moved out the mountains and settled into some pretty enough country called the Heartlands, you shared Arthur’s sentiments when he remarked that everyone was thinking more clearly and feeling a lot happier now since that whole Blackwater mess.

You could see the sparkle in the crew’s eyes when they heard Uncle and Hosea said something about a nearby town called Valentine. Almost all of them couldn’t just wait to head out, explore, and interact with civilization again (or at least some semblance of it). Herr Strauss said he’ll try and see if he can find some means to make money in town. You were pretty sure he meant lending money to some poor folk at exorbitant interest rates, and Reverend Swanson had this habit of disappearing every after lunch. You did catch him once or twice trying to steal from the camp’s donation box.

One afternoon, Ms Grimshaw asked you to gather some firewood for the camp. Upon returning, you were looking for Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth since you girls did plan on heading to town together.

When you couldn’t find them anywhere, you saw Bill and tried asking him.

“Bill! Have you seen the girls?”

“You just missed them! They got in a wagon with Uncle and Arthur, s’pose they headed to Valentine.” He answered. A look of disappointment on your face.

“Aww, your girlfriends abandoned you, Señorita?” you heard Javier approaching you from behind. He certainly took pleasure in teasing you at every chance he can get. He put his arm around your shoulders and squeezed and pulled you uncomfortably closer to him.

“Well… I didn’t want to go anyway…” You bitterly answered him, sounding rather a bit childish, as you swatted his arm away, immediately putting some distance between you and him.

“Hah! Ain’t you cranky. Well, today’s your lucky day, because I will take you with me to Valentine! Well, me, Charles, and Bill will take you. How about it?”

“Really?” You eyed him suspiciously, trying very hard not to give him the pleasure of showing your excitement over his generous invitation.

“Yes! Now let’s go, before I change my mind.” He said, still teasing you at this point.

“I’ll just go get my things… Oh but I don’t have a horse.” You didn’t want to ride behind Javier, although, at the back of your head, you didn’t mind at all.

He stroked his chin, thinking for a minute, then he saw John pass by.

“Hey, John, can this little lady here borrow your horse?” He shouted at John. He might’ve thought John’s not heading out anytime soon.

Your eyes met John’s as he looked to see who was borrowing Old Boy for the afternoon. “Uh, okay. Just bring him alive, okay?” He pleaded, clearly, he wasn’t that confident in your horse-back riding skills.

“I will. Thank you, John!” You shot him a smile right before he turned away. Good to see he’s back on his feet at least, you thought.

You mounted Old Boy and rode towards Valentine with Javier, Bill, and Charles. The ride was uncomfortable with your ankle-length skirt, and John's Hungarian half-bred horse is not exactly lady-sized, but you did enjoy the scenic view and the fresh air for once.

You slowed down and followed the three men in front of you. They were heading towards an establishment called Smithfield Saloon – then you realised, “Oh, they were taking you to a saloon. You can already hear the rowdy voices of the drunk men inside, and ragtime was playing on the piano.

You hitched up your horses. You followed behind, but you hesitated in your footsteps. You softly grabbed Javier’s arm before he could get through the bat swing doors.

“Hey, Javi. Can I borrow some money?”

“Hmm. What for?” he asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

“I just want to buy something.” You explained.

“Alright, but you have to pay me back okay – with interest!” he laughed as he handed you a couple of bills from his pocket. He left you to your own and disappeared into the saloon.

***

A few minutes later, as you entered the saloon, looking out of place. The men didn’t seem to pay attention too much, thanks to your new get-up, which you just picked up from the general goods store next door. Your eyes scanned the crowd to look for your companions. You found Javier and Charles, who now happened to be at the bar and canoodling a pair of prostitutes.

“Hello!” You greeted them. Javier spat some of the liquid that was in his mouth, seeing you in pants and suspenders for the first time. Charles looked at you from head to toe in slight disbelief.

“Had I known you were getting rid of your skirt for these pants, I shouldn’t have lent you that money, [Y/N]! You got yourself a boy’s hat, too! Ayayay!” He flicked your hat and shook his head. Charles handed you a bottle of beer. You paid them no mind because you liked it - the freedom that came with wearing a pair of pants, plus you didn’t want to ride horseback on your way back to camp on your skirt.

***

After a bottle or two of beers, you started to feel that familiar feel-good buzz again. This time you made sure to moderate your alcohol consumption. You don’t want a repeat of the last time you went drinking with Javier. You didn’t mind the company too; you were having fun just listening to Javier and Charles trying so desperate to woo these women into getting into their pants when they should just really be paying them for that.

Arthur came in and joined you three, he made a side comment on your new clothes, but you were having too much fun to notice. Javier introduced him to their new lady friends, but unfortunately, Arthur Morgan was no sweet talker, and the women left your group, appalled at Arthur’s rude remarks.

A drunk Bill walked in the bar shortly after Arthur. He bumped into another patron. This angered the patron so much, he shouted at Bill “Watch it!” and that wasn’t good, because you don’t shout at a drunk Bill Williamson nor you want to make Bill mad when he’s drunk, no sir you don’t. Bill’s face reddened, looking as if he were about to burst.

The men braced as they knew, as if on their instinct, that a full-on bar fight, courtesy of Mr Williamson, was about to erupt. You ducked and covered your head, evading the fists and kicks that were flinging in the air, as you retreated in the corner.

The patrons wrestled each other, either landing punches or getting punched, as the sound of bottles breaking, women screaming, and men cursing each other filled the saloon. You swore you just saw someone’s gold tooth flew in the air. The bartender stayed behind the bar counter, ducking as bottles were thrown in his direction. He looked helpless as he pleaded for the enraged patrons to stop.

You stayed in your corner as chaos ensued before your eyes. You screamed when you saw Javier being thrown by this enormous man, landing on the table in front of you. The big man was called Tommy, and the others claimed he was the strongest local at the saloon. Tommy picked up Javier again and rammed him on another table. At this point, you didn’t know what came to you when you rushed behind Tommy and jumped him like a flying squirrel. Your petite frame looking ridiculous now more than ever as you clung on Tommy’s back. The large man let go of Javier and flailed around trying to get you off his back. You grabbed a whiskey bottle nearby and smashed it on Tommy’s head, but that didn’t work. The large man was obviously too strong for you – let alone for Javier. He forcefully backed to the counter. You landed on the bar counter, and your head hit its hard surface, then it went pitch black.

***


	9. Cuts, Bruises, and a Busted Lip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After making quite a mess of yourself, Dutch gives you a hell of an earful and takes you back to camp with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, John is really taking his time with you, isn't he? Oh, and Dutch being the overprotective daddy that he is. ~

Bruises and a busted lip were what you got, and cuts too on your right hand, most likely from the bottle, you smashed on Tommy’s head. You head out of the camp for some fresh air for the first time in weeks, and this is what you got. Despite how things went that late afternoon, the sting you felt in your hand and lip, and the soreness in your limbs, you surprisingly didn't regret any of it. 

You have woken up to Javier wiping off the blood on your lip and tucking your hair behind your ear. At some point, he might have picked you up from the bar counter and carried you where you are now, seated on one of few chairs that weren’t destroyed from the kerfuffle earlier.

“Hola, Sleeping Beauty!” Javier greeted you, his lips curling into a grin. Why does he have to be this charming and handsome?

You flinched when you felt the sting on your lip as he wiped the blood on your lip.

“Hello...” You groaned as you slowly regained consciousness. You started to feel the soreness throughout your arms and legs – damn that hurts… everywhere hurts!

Javier seemed chipper, and you were expecting he’ll yell at you or smack you in the head for being an idiot thinking you could take down the strongest local at Smithfield’s, or anyone at that fight earlier for that matter.

“Idiota, don’t ever do that again,” Javier said as he finished up on your face. He said it softly, but he did sound serious and genuinely concerned for you. He helped you stand up, and he escorted you out of the establishment that now lay in ruin.

You walked up to the front of the general goods store next door where Dutch and Arthur were standing. Arthur was now all covered in mud, and Dutch was frowning at the sight of you. Boy, he was not happy. Another man, who was smartly dressed and a bushy moustache on his lip, was standing next to them.

“Javier and Charles! I’ve missed you! And Bill looking as well as can be.”

“…Ah, it looks like you recruited a new boy!” he jested in his Transatlantic accent. He almost didn’t recognise you in your new clothes.

“Hello, Mr Trelawney.”

“And a good day to you too, Ms. [Y/L/N].” he answered as he took your good hand and kissed it “How are you?”

“Picking on drunkards and starting bar fights,” Arthur answered for you and the group burst into laughter – except for Dutch who gave you a disdainful look. You hung your head low, anticipating an earful from him on your way back to camp.

Josiah Trelawney revealed to the group that Sean is still alive and being held up somewhere by bounty hunters. Extremely relieved about the news that Sean is still alive, Dutch gave the men orders, one by one, and they slowly dissipated.

“That was fun, let’s do it again some time.” Javier discreetly whispered to your ear, as he was about to leave. You restrained yourself from giggling as you gently brushed his hand off from your waist.

Dutch gave his remaining orders to Arthur and Bill and turned to you finally.

“You. You’re coming home with me.” He held a finger in front of you. You saw Arthur’s face giving you that mischievous “oh you’re definitely gonna get it now.” look before he left alone you with Dutch.

***

A hell of an earful was what you definitely got from Dutch Van der Linde on your ride home, and the soreness you felt all over your body at each of Old Boy’s gallop made it worse by the minute.

After a few minutes, which felt like an eternity, you finally arrived at the camp. Dutch finally left you alone, and you couldn’t wait to get back to your tent to clean and fix yourself up – Javier tried his best, but he didn’t do a good job at it.

Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth were nice enough to catch up with you on your way to your tent. They heard about what happened from Bill, and they apologised for leaving you behind. Apparently, their afternoon in Valentine didn’t go so well either, especially for Karen who also ended up with some bruises on her face.

When you got inside your tent, the soreness from earlier worsened, so you had to slowly move around your tent, looking pathetic, cradling your wounded hand. You picked up your medical bag and sat on the edge of your cot. You looked at your face on the mirror and saw, for the first time, just how bad you looked. You couldn’t help but laugh at the poor state you’ve gotten yourself into.

A few minutes in your attempts to fix yourself up, you were starting to lose your patience since you couldn’t use both your hands now.

“Ugh! Dammit.” You cursed. Your left hand was shaking, and it kept failing at wrapping and tucking the gauze neatly around your right hand. You gave up in frustration and sighed.

“Do you need some help with that?” that familiar husky voice came from behind and startled you in your seat. You turned to see who it was and saw John’s figure standing at the opening of your tent. He walked towards your cot and sat next to you. He held out his hand, signalling for you to give him your hand so that he can take it from there. You did as he instructed.

“Just tell me what to do, okay?” he said so softly as if in a whisper, and you nodded your head gently.

He worked on your hand first then on your face. He was so self-conscious at what he was currently doing, worried that he’ll mess up – you were the expert after all.

You mustered some confidence and playfully teased him, “I didn’t know we were talking again.” You smiled and wincing at the touch of his hand on yours.

“Well I saw my horse hitched up outside, and I didn’t even get a ‘thank you’ from you.” He responded, going along with your playful teasing. It seemed he’s forgotten all about your conversation with him back in Colter, and you didn’t dare bring it up tonight. Not tonight.

He spent his evening taking care of you. He was so gentle with you, and you realised he did an awful better job than Javier did. It felt good for both of you to talk like this again after a while. You did miss him, you admitted to yourself. After he was done, you recounted to him the events that led to you in this sorry state. His laughter filled your small tent as you animatedly described to him one mishap after another.

“This was nice. Thank you, John.” You said to him when he finally bid you good night. You two didn’t realise it was getting late, and you didn’t want the others to get the wrong impression.

“It was. Take care of yourself, [Y/N].” He patted your head gently as he stood up, then tipped his hat and let himself out. Though you couldn’t see it from where you were sitting, John was still smiling as he disappeared into the darkness.

***


	10. Who is Not Without Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was you who went out to fetch Reverend Swanson (not Arthur) at Flatneck Station under the orders of Ms Grimshaw, but John was worried, so he followed you. Based on the game's Chapter 2 mission of the same title. ~

“It’s just Reverend Swanson. I doubt he’s going to make a mess any more than you did back in Valentine, dear [Y/N].” Ms Grimshaw said as she dismissed you for carrying out his orders.

People were starting to get worried when the preacher didn’t come home for two nights in a row now, hoping it isn’t one of his benders again. She did explain that most of the others were out and about and just flat out busy – Arthur was going to get Micah out of jail in Strawberry, the others were either scouting where Sean was held up or out to make some money and Uncle – well Uncle said he had lumbago. Still, he was nice enough to saddle up one of the horses for you. It was a black Morgan with a calm enough disposition that someone might have ‘borrowed’ from somewhere and never returned.

You mounted the horse and rode out to Flatneck Station, which was in the south-western part of New Hanover, according to Uncle’s directions. When you found the station, it was quiet and looked deserted. There were no other buildings and structures nearby. Ms Grimshaw did say you were just going to drop by and get the Reverend – in and out, she reassured. What can go wrong, right?

You surveyed the surroundings and tried the door at the back where you could hear men’s voices inside. One voice, you were sure of, was the clergyman’s.

You walked further inside and saw him seated at a table along with two other men, pair of cards on hand and a stack of chips in the middle of the table. Reverend didn’t look too good, and he was quite intoxicated.

He stood from his seat and welcomed you eagerly. “Ms. [Y/L/N]!” his breath reeking of alcohol.

“Reverend, people back home are worried about. I came to get you.” You said to him struggling to maintain your balance as his heavy hands clumsily landed on your shoulders.

“I took Mr Morgan’s advice! I am free!” He preached, slurring as he spoke each word.

“What are you talking about, Reverend? We ought to go home now.” You pleaded with him. You just want to get him out there. The piercing stares of the other men were making you extremely uncomfortable by the minute.

“I am free, [Y/N], free from Morpheus’ embrace!” he repeated himself.

“Who’s your lady friend, Reverend?” The sleazy older man seated across the table asked. Before the drunk preacher could respond, he collapsed to the floor and started crawling on fours.

You were going escort him to his horse, but the other man, the more ill-tempered looking one, held your arm so tight it hurt.

“Look the game ain’t done here, Missy. Sit down and finish the game for him.” He demanded aggressively. He threw you to where Reverend Swanson’s sat earlier.

“Okay.” You said weakly, regretting now the moment you stepped outside that camp. You silently thanked Mr Pearson for teaching you a thing or two about poker.

After a few rounds, you were scooping all the chips off the table, still surprised at how the game turned out in your favour but contented with a smile on your face, much to the irritation of the two men who sat opposite you.

“You bitch. You cheated!” the ill-tempered man spat out. Distracted by the man’s sudden accusation, you didn’t notice the other man creeping behind you, forcefully grabbing you from behind, locking your frame in his burly arms. You let out frantic screams for help, struggling to break free, as he held you in place.

“We don’t take nicely to cheats and liars in these parts, bitch. So, we gon’ just take our money back from your dirty little paws!”

“Please, let me go.” You cried as the man in front of you, fished in pockets and satchel, taking this opportunity to graze his palms over your breast. It made you cringe and sick to your stomach.

As you struggled against the two men, you heard the door burst open behind you.

“Get your goddamn hands off her!” John’s voice echoed through the room. You couldn’t see him, but he must have had a gun in his hand, as the men immediately released you and slowly backed away from you. The sleazy man attempted to reason with John and explained that you cheated, and they were only taking what was rightfully theirs.

“Leave now, or I’ll shoot your heads off.” His husky voice roared threateningly, and the two men scrambled for the exit.

“Are you alright? I heard Grimshaw sent you out to look for Swanson --- I… I got worried.” he walked to you, his eyes scanning your body to see if you were hurt anywhere. “I swear, I’ll kill them, if ---” he murmured under his breath.

“I am. Thank you, John.” You straightened yourself up, extremely relieved to see him. “But we have to find Swanson.”

You headed out of the station. A few minutes scouring the area, you recognised the reverend’s figure up on the train tracks. The pair of you ran as fast as you could towards the inebriated preacher. His foot was stuck in the train tracks. What the hell was he thinking? Your face grew pale in horror as you heard the sound of an approaching train. You and John frantically worked to free the reverend’s foot, as the dreadful chugging of the train drew closer and louder. Right at the very moment when the train was a few meters away, the reverend’s foot broke free, and you and John threw yourselves out of the way, pushing the reverend off the tracks and to safety.

***

It was dark when you and John got back to the camp. Reverend Swanson had passed out drunk. Ms Grimshaw thanked both of you for bringing him back and promised to keep an eye on him.

John carried the clergyman and laid him on his bedroll before he caught up again with you, tracing where you disappeared off to. He found you on the spot not far from the camp but was conveniently hidden. He saw you resting under a tree. You’ve used this spot many times when you just wanted to be left alone, either with your book or in your thoughts.

“How is he?” You asked as John took his seat next to you.

“Still passed out drunk, but he’s alright. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, John. Thank you. I’m glad you showed up when you did.” You gave him a soft kiss on his cheek as a way of saying thank you. Suddenly realising that you made a mistake, as that kiss just landed very near (and quite dangerously) the corner of his lips. You pulled back, his eyes locked with yours and looking just as surprised.

“I think I should go now.” You gulped praying that didn’t just happen. He caught your arm, right before you could leave him, pulling your body back to him, and your face closer to his. His lips collided with yours, a little too passionately, as if he’d been waiting to do this since the night, he first laid eyes on you. You faltered, you’ve been dreaming of this moment for many nights, you weren’t sure if this was real. However, there was no moment of hesitation from John. It’s as if time froze and you forgot how to breathe as you melted under his touch. He deepened his kiss, and you parted your lips to let his eager tongue inside. Your bodies pressed against each other and his fingers dug into your hair. Heat rose from your stomach, and a weak moan escaped you, which did nothing but make him want you more. You shuddered at the sound that came from his throat – a husky, half growl, half moan.

Breaking from the trance you were just in, you moved away from him, but he never let go of you.

As much as you just wanted to stay there with him and forget about everything else. He nodded as if he understood you; his eyes lost in yours. Both of you have been gone for some time now.

‘I think I should go,’ were the words in your mind, but you couldn’t speak. You walked away and left John in his spot. Your heart was still beating fast, and your knees weak. It felt like you were going to implode at some point on your way back to your tent. You tried your best to regain your composure before the campfire illuminated your face and before anyone else could see you.

As you crawled to your cot for the night, your mind flooded with the sensations John Marston had made you feel a few moments ago. It was maddening. Scary. Thrilling.

***


	11. Sean MacGuire's Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story so far. This one happens during the party in Horseshoe Overlook. Javier is so sweet and thoughtful though! ~

“Have you seen John anywhere?” you asked Tilly nonchalantly the next day, as you girls went on about your chores around the camp.

“I think he headed out to town or somewhere, up pretty early too. Why?”

“Oh. It’s just he… He said he wanted me to look at his stitches.” You lied.

_Why are you looking for John anyway? If he were around, what would you say to him? That last night was a mistake. No last night wasn’t a mistake, because it felt good and you couldn’t sleep just thinking about it - John’s face and raw scars so close to you, his lips on yours, the feel of his tongue in your mouth as you parted your lips for him so willingly._

“Right,” Tilly answered, sounding bored and not paying attention to you, she returned to her sewing.

_At least he’s not around, so that should save you from another awkward encounter with him. On the other hand, not knowing where he is and that he’ll show up at any moment with his stupid face is driving you to your wit’s end!_

_Why would he go after you to Flatneck Station? He got worried. That’s it. Nothing to it – but, going after you or anyone who might be in trouble is more of an Arthur thing. It’s not John’s thing. Maybe he’d go if it were Abigail or Jack, not that you’d really wish it on Abigail or Jack, but not you – and then there was that other night! Why would he come to your tent and help you fix yourself up, huh? Being all sweet and caring wearing that goddamn smile of his. The nerve!_

_‘What is happening to me?’_

A few steps away from you and Tilly, Karen had dropped the firewood she was holding as soon as she caught a glimpse of the ginger-haired man beside Arthur, Charles, and Javier. Her eyes could not believe it, her mouth slightly agape. She paused for a minute to make sure it was him. She thought she’d never seen him again.

“My god! He’s back! Everyone! Sean’s back.” Karen almost jumped for joy, pressing her hand over her lips.

Sean MacGuire’s return did you good as it did everyone else, as it had calmed your nerves and you genuinely felt relieved that he was alive and well. You like Sean. He was okay. He’s like everyone’s annoying brother.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t you miss me?” you were lost in your thoughts; you didn’t notice how distant you looked to everyone else – you were smiling and looked happy, you seemed happy at least, but that didn’t fool Javier Escuella.

He was walking towards you, holding out his arms, as if expecting a hug from you.

“Quit it.” You swatted his hand away lightly because it looked like he was going to hug if you didn’t. “But that was mighty brave of you rescuing Sean like that.” You answered him coyly, and he gave you a rather proud smile.

“Come on, looks like there’ll be drinking tonight, and lots of it.” He motions for you to join him.

“Oh! I am not drinking with you again!” you retorted.

“Ha-ha! And why not?” He shot you a questioning look, with a mischievous grin. He hasn’t forgotten the last time you went drinking with him.

“At least join us, okay?” He continued when he didn’t hear anything from you. You followed behind him to join the others who are now listening to Sean’s drunken speech. Your eyes wandered around, searching for John.

***

When the sun had gone down, almost everyone’s intoxicated, except you – you know well by now that nothing good came out of you getting all drunk. Music from Javier’s guitar and everyone signing to Ring-dang-doo filled the camp. You never liked the song. You thought it was obscene, so you never sang along with it, but the scene before filled your heart – to see them happy and celebrating like this – like Blackwater is just some distant memory now. 

A couple of you were sitting around the fire. You sat next to Javier with your second bottle of beer for the night – which is so good for you, when the others had at least seven by now and most likely with some hard liquor. When the Ring-dang-doo song ended, Javier put down his guitar to take another swig of beer.

When he asked you about it, you told him about your unfortunate encounter with the men back at Flatneck Station. Funnily enough, you found out; the reverend seemed to have no recollection of it whatsoever when you saw him listening to you intently as if he weren’t there.

“Oh, that reminds me. Here.” You fished for your pockets for some bills. “I owe you, remember?” earning a smile from Javier – he never expected you were going to pay him back.

“You know, Señorita, there’s still that interest rate… I’m pretty sure I discussed it with you.” he teased you. “No, but seriously. You gotta learn how to shoot. I might teach you one of these days.” He gave you a wink and picked up his guitar again. You told him you’d get some fresh air before he started to play his next song.

You must not have noticed the time pass by when you were hanging around the campfire with the others, as you could hear John’s drunken voice somewhere. It seemed he was with Bill. They were at the table next to Pearson’s wagon. Your heart almost leapt when you saw him again for the first time since… since that kiss last night.

‘Since when did he get back?!’ You asked yourself, surprised.

You tried your best to stay calm and steered clear of the area, making sure that they couldn’t see you from where you were standing. From where you were standing though, you could still hear their conversation – they were pretty drunk and loud after all.

“…You know I love liquor. I love liquor, but liquor don’t love me.” Bill said to John, his words dragging and slurring. John sniggered as if something clicked and it was the funniest thing he ever heard.

“I know what you mean!” John exclaimed, and the pair burst into laughter.

‘What. What does he mean he knows what Bill means? Did he mean, I love him, and he doesn’t love me? Am I the liquor? Is John the liquor?’ A dozen questions swirled in your mind. It made you dizzy – so dizzy that the next thing you saw was Abigail standing next to John, saying something you couldn’t make out before storming off disappearing into the woods. She seemed angry, you thought.

“C’mere my sweet!” You heard John call to Abigail. He held his arm out as if it was going to bring Abigail back. He was still laughing when he rose from his seat. “Now she hates me!” He said as he sauntered off to the direction where Abigail disappeared.

Your face felt hot as if you’ve just been made the biggest fool. Arthur was right. You walked briskly into the direction of your tent. Tears starting to well in your eyes – ‘just need to keep it together, [Y/N].’ You cheered yourself up. No one must see you like this – not when you’re a mess like this, not especially when you’re going to burst into tears any moment. Just a little more ---

“Hey! Hey, hey, [Y/N]. Señorita!” you bumped into Javier. You were so caught in your emotions you didn’t notice him walking straight to you. He had been looking for you. You discreetly turned your head away from him so that he couldn’t see your face.

“How about we start that shooting lesson tomorrow, ei?” he asked. He looked puzzled at your sudden standoffish behaviour.

You gave him a quick nod, accepting his offer, as if on reflex. You just gave him the first response that came to mind so that he can leave you alone. “Goodnight, Javi.” You finally said, and you disappeared into your tent.

***


	12. The Girl Can't Shoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javier teaches you how to shoot and, out of nowhere, and John asks if the two of you could talk about the other night.

Okay, you can do this [Y/N]. Pop! Nope. Missed it.

Pop! Missed it again.

Pop! Dammit.

“Javier, this is hopeless!” you whined like a little girl.

“This is not hopeless, [Y/N]. Come on. You need to learn this. You need to be able to defend yourself. Okay, now one more time.” Javier said calmly. His patience with you, even at this point, was astounding. You lost patience with yourself a few minutes ago.

The bottle that Javier laid on top on of one of the fence posts at a nearby clearing was still intact, standing there all high and mighty, mocking you at every shot you fired and missed.

“Watch me, Chica.” Javier demonstrated with ease. He even explained it a little slower this time for you.

With ease, he aimed and pulled the trigger. Pop! And the bottle shattered into pieces.

“I’ve seen you stitch us up many times, so those eyes and hands should be able to do this, too.” He gestured in the air. He was approached the fence post to replace the bottle he just shot when you felt something crawl on your feet. You looked down to see what it was and instantly panicked when you saw a snake creeping under you.

You shrieked in horror. You never knew how snakes scared you so much until now. You accidentally pulled the trigger – pop! And the next thing you heard was Javier grunting then cursing in Spanish.

“What, you’re trying to kill me now, [Y/N]?” He asked rhetorically, laughing as he felt the sting in his lower leg.

“Oh my god!” you rushed to Javier’s side, realising that you have just accidentally shot him in the leg. “I am so sorry, Javier!” slightly relieved to see that the gunshot wound he sustained wasn’t that bad, but it still did look it hurt.

“I am so sorry – there was a snake, then, then I panicked…I’m so sorry, Javier.” You stammered. You seemed more distressed than Javier was.

“I had worse, ha-ha. Ugh, now help me up, will you? I think we’re done here for the day, Señorita.” You nodded obediently, you took his arm and placed it on your shoulders. You helped him mount Boaz, and the pair of you rode back to camp.

***

“I’m telling you, Dutch! The girl can’t shoot!” Javier announced jokingly to Dutch much to your embarrassment. Dutch was watching you two, puzzled at the state Javier was in.

You explained to him earlier that Javier was going to give you shooting lessons. He saw you picking up empty bottles from last night and placing them carefully in your satchel. 

“On the contrary, Mr Escuella. She can shoot – just the wrong target.” Dutch answered Javier as he placed a cigar between his mouth. He chuckled at his joke.

“Can somebody, please assist Mr Escuella here?” Dutch ordered.

“What happened to him?” you heard John approaching. You froze at the sound of his voice and swallowed hard. You were not prepared at all to talk to him now, let alone see him. Your heart started to beat faster.

“Ask her,” Javier answered John as he took Javier from you.

“Javier here’s been teaching me how to use a gun, and…and then I saw a snake, and I panicked, and I accidentally pulled the trigger.” You stuttered, your eyes avoiding John.

“Ah! I see. Must’ve been a one scary-looking snake.” He commented. You could sense a hint of snide in the way he said it.

“Thank you, John. Can you bring him to my tent, please? Might be easier, my things are already there.” John did as told and helped Javier sit down your cot.

“Can I talk to you [Y/N]. When you’re done?” John asked you softly, not exactly minding that Javier was there.

“Ugh. Sure.” You hesitated, caught off by his question. John nodded and left.

“Something going on between you two?” Javier asked innocently, finally breaking the silence after some minutes as you worked on Javier’s gunshot wound.

“Nothing.” You lied, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly.

***

After taking care of Javier, you told him he could stay there for as long as he needs. You headed out to look for John, and when you couldn’t see him anywhere nearby, you figured he might be in your usual spot by the tree.

“We might have to start hiding our guns away from you.” John casually joked when you finally caught up with him. You blushed in embarrassment, knowing that the gang’s not going to let go of this joke any time soon.

“Javier’s fine now. He’s resting.” You gestured with your hand, pointing in the direction of your tent. Deep down, your mind was racing – about what John will say, what you will say, about that kiss the other night.

“Haven’t seen you yesterday. I was, uh – out in town. Picked up a few things for Abigail.”

Abigail. Not exactly the first thing you wanted to hear him say to you, and especially you could swear he was avoiding you the entire day yesterday.

“About the other night ---” he continued. John was never good with words, and you as well. You have so many words in mind, so many things you wanted to say to him, to ask him, but the right thing to say at the right moment has always eluded you.

“What did it mean to you?” you asked him curiously.

“Did it mean anything to you?” he asked back. You were starting to get annoyed at this habit of his – being so elusive and the way he evades almost everything, including this, he’s got to ask you first instead of just saying what’s exactly on his mind.

“It did, John.” You said, giving yourself some sense of relief being able to say it out loud.

“It did for me too,” John answered softly.

“—But I just don’t know how I feel about it.” He admitted. You face started to feel hot at his words.

“Or about me?”

“Yeah, uhm no. It’s not that, [Y/N]. There’s just a lot of things going on right now. I can’t think straight.” He sounded flustered.

“And you weren’t thinking straight when you kissed me?” you prodded further.

“I mean, I told you. There’s just a lot of things going on right now, there’s Abigail and then Jack.” He tried his best to explain to you, but the more words he spoke that more he was just hurting you.

“Right. I think you made yourself pretty clear. I should get going.” You dismissed him. Deep down somewhere you thought he might have more to say, but he’s already broken your heart so much; you didn’t want to fall apart in front of him.

“Well, how do you feel about it?” you paused in your steps when you heard him ask. He’s at it again.

“Oh, I can tell you a lot of things about how I feel about that kiss, but, seeing that there’s a lot of things going on right now with you I think it’s all fucking irrelevant. I… I’ll see you around, John.” Already tired and hurt, you snapped back at him and left.

_(John’s POV)_

Great. Just great. You fucked that one up too, Marston. What YOU meant to say was that you like her, okay? You like her. You’ve been fascinated by her ever since Dutch brought her in that night and all those times you spent with her, and you started to have these glimpses into what she is, and what she truly is. You haven’t even mentioned how beautiful she is and how you wouldn’t mind kissing her over and over and doing other things with her. What you wanted to say to her was that you didn’t want to drag her into this whole mess that you’re in right now – because you are a mess, John Marston, a big fucking mess! The biggest fuck-up you’ve known. There’s Abigail and Jack, poor kid, and everyone else constantly reminding you that every day... and maybe when all this mess is sorted out, you can have another try at it and see where this goes with her, if she’s okay with that, that is. THAT’S what you wanted to say to her.

***

“Feeling better now?” You asked Javier as you entered your tent.

“Yes. Thank you.” He was just where he left him, lying down on your cot. He saw your face, and it reminded him how you acted with him in the latter part of last night. “What’s wrong? Is it John?” he rose so you could sit next to him.

“Oh, Javier. Why do you care for me so much?” growing impatient, and definitely on the verge of tears, at how he’s been showering you with attention and care lately, and even now when you just shot his leg.

“You take good care of us, [Y/N].”

“Well, that’s my job. You guys earn money out there, shooting and robbing, and the shooting I can’t do, as you know well by now. I gotta earn my keep like everybody else.” Tears start running down your cheeks as you finished your sentence, although the reason for your crying had nothing to do with what you just said.

“It’s more than that.” He remarked, placing his hand on your arm to comfort you. “So uh, are you going to tell me about this thing between you and John, or am I just going to sing the Ring-dang-doo here until you tell me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. With having nowhere to hide now, you proceeded to tell Javier the truth.

***


	13. Let's Go for a Swim!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scheming Javier invites you for a swim in front of John (uh-oh).

A week or so had passed since you accidentally shot Javier’s leg and that conversation you had with John. One morning, a little later than usual, you sluggishly made your way to pour yourself a cup of coffee. You recalled Javier’s words when you told him about what’s been driving you insane of late.

_“[Y/N],” he looked you straight in the eye, sounding so serious when he spoke. “I love him like my own hermano, okay? But look at what he did to Abigail - what came out of that? Jack, poor kid, without a dad. You know I’m just out looking for you, right? I just don’t want you getting hurt.”_

You kept telling yourself that you and John were never going anywhere anyway, as much as it pained you to make yourself realise that. It was a stupid crush, and the world moved on, including John – especially John. Hell, you might just pack up and split, and he would barely even notice something’s amiss. God knows you tried your best to move on, but just seeing his face around the camp and being constantly reminded of that kiss you shared with him that one night, damn you if you could just simply forget a thing like that; and damn you, if you could simply forget John Marston like that.

“You’re pathetic, John Marston. PATHETIC!” – and here we go again, you thought. You rolled your eyes as you heard John and Abigail go at it again.

For weeks, you’ve heard nothing come out of Abigail’s mouth except her shouting “You’re pathetic, John,” and “You’re fucking useless, John Marston.” It was infuriating.

You did your best to stay away from both, but it’s just so hard to shut them off when you could hear them all the way from the other side of the camp. You rubbed your temple as you held your cup of coffee with your other hand. Abigail’s shouting and cursing were definitely not putting you in any better mood this morning.

You made your way to the campfire where Javier was sitting by his lean-to. You were still groggy that you didn’t realise John was also heading in the same direction. Your eyes met for a second, and you both paused in your steps.

For you at this point, it was already a little too late to turn your heels and head for the opposite direction, it’s just going to make it more obvious for everyone, so no, you didn’t walk out. Why would you walk out? This was your home as much as it was his. You can sit, stand, and enjoy your coffee anywhere you please. You let out a forced smile and sat on the log.

“Good morning, you two.” Javier was the first one to greet.

“Hey.” You greeted him back. There was a moment of silence, and when John had enough of it, he finally said, “That woman… words fail me.”

Oh, that’s just wonderful, now you have to hear him go rant about Abigail further.

“Words fail all of us when it comes to women,” Javier answered coolly. You remained silent throughout their conversation, minding your own and your cup of coffee.

“What are women like in Mexico?” John asked.

‘Really? You were this close to pouring your heart and soul to this man just a few days ago, and here he wants to talk about women?’

“About the same, some good, some bad, some you think are good turn out to be bad.”

“You miss Mexico? Think you’ll ever go back?”

“I killed a man there – a powerful man, over a woman, a guy in the army, till he lost his position, I can’t go back, maybe one day” you gave Javier a puzzled look.

“Hmm, I didn’t know that.” You jumped in their conversation.

“Maybe one of these days, I’ll tell you all about it.” Javier smiled at you.

You didn’t notice it, but for a split second, John rolled his eyes at what seemed to him a rather flirtatious invitation from Javier to you. Unbeknownst to John, Javier was quick enough to catch him in the act.

“It looks like it’s going to be warm today,” Javier, who now seemed to be brewing something, stretched out his arms and yawned as he looked at the clouds.

“You wanna go for a swim?” He didn’t address anyone of you in particular, but he did have that devilish grin on his face. He knew pretty well that John couldn’t swim. John furrowed his eyebrows at Javier, confused as to what game Javier was supposed to be playing at with him.

“I’m heading out. I gotta take care of something.” John said quickly.

‘Probably getting things for Abigail again’, you thought bitterly.

“How about you, Señorita? What’s your excuse?” Javier turned to you, smiling eagerly. “We can ask Sean and Karen.”

“Ugh, sure. It’d be fun,” You shrugged. You badly needed to get out of this place anyway, away from Abigail’s shouting and cursing, and away from John, especially, “but are you sure your leg’s okay?”

“Good as new! You sure you ain’t coming, John?” Javier turned to John once more, whose face was growing red. John rose to his feet, shaking his head.

As he left, he whispered to Javier, “you are an ass, Javier.”

***


	14. Love Advice from Hosea Matthews Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More love advice from Hosea Matthews! ~

_(John’s POV)_

John lied when Javier invited him and [Y/N] for a swim. Of course, he didn’t swim – he can’t swim for god’s sake, but [Y/N] didn’t seem to know, so his instant reaction was to make up an excuse. It felt like it’s the only thing he’s been doing lately – lying to himself, making up some excuse, lying some more, and denying what he truly felt and thought.

When he saw Sean and Karen were still at the camp that day when the pair would’ve been gone with [Y/N] and Javier, a certain panic crept up in him. ‘Why the hell are they still here?’ a question burned in his mind much to his annoyance.

“Aren’t you folks supposed to go swimming with Javier and [Y/N]?” John enquired casually as he sat across them.

“Us? Pshhnaw, we thought we’d give those two lovebirds some alone time.” Karen giggled, waving her hand in the air, a bottle of whiskey in the other. She was drunk again, no surprise there.

“Yes, Johnny boy!” A drunk Sean seconded, “ah what a time to be in love, don’t ya think?” he looked at Karen dreamily.

“Ain’t it too early for you to be drinking?” he wittingly veered away from the topic, and the intoxicated pair just scoffed at John.

***

The thought of [Y/N] with Javier since he brought her swimming, consumed John. He’d catch a glimpse of [Y/N] back at camp, and his mind would spiral back to the image of her alone with Javier, in the water, their bodies wet and their clothes clinging to their skin – and what the hell was she even wearing? Her underwear or perhaps a bathing suit from one of the suitcases the gang had nicked from previous train and stagecoach robberies? Either way, it could only mean she exposed a little too much of her skin for Javier’s eyes to enjoy and bask in, and this annoyed John so much. God, he hated the water.

He thought orchestrating a train robbery, a tip he got from Uncle and Mary-Beth, would distract him from it, but after robbing the train with Arthur, Sean, and Charles, and successfully fighting off the law pursuing them, he realised it only distracted him for a while. He’d be reminded of it again.

How could John stop thinking about her alone with Javier, when he could just see her around the camp? [Y/N] would go about her usual routine, which he was quite familiar with by now. She would usually wake up a little earlier than the others, most likely to relish some peace and quiet before the camp stirred from their sleep and wake up to another day. In these early hours, it would just be John and her awake, as it would also be around this time, he’d commence his guard duty. She’d prepare coffee for everyone and pour herself a cup before heading to her favourite spot by the tree – the spot where she kissed him first and where they had their last conversation, as John bitterly recalled.

She’d have a book with her sometimes, then dutifully go on about her chores. She’d drop by for a quick chat with Mary-Beth, Karen, and Tilly, sometimes with Uncle, and you’ll see her laughing and smiling, and at this point, John is helpless that he couldn’t do anything except revel in the sound of her laughter and admire that smile she wore. Then after all her chores are done, she had this habit of checking on others, especially when they seem like they’re feeling a bit under the weather.

At one time, when Hosea was coughing badly, the others would ask if he’s okay. Still, her, being the camp’s de facto doctor, after all, would spend a few minutes with him, probably making a mental note of these things, then a few minutes later, she’d hand him some herbs or a tincture of some sort for his cough.

When everything appeared sorted out, she’d quietly disappear to somewhere, either in her favourite spot again, her tent, or out for a walk and fresh air, well, if Javier wasn’t around hounding her like a dog anyway – that devil, he thought. Is Javier on to him now too or he’s gotten so possessive of [Y/N] that he’s resolved to devious ways to keep other men away from her? John hated the fact that he can’t be as smooth and cool with her the way Javier was and the fact that he can just waltz in anytime he pleases and openly flirt with her, rousing waves of jealousy in John every time. He hated the fact that he can do all of these things with her without anything to worry about – without Abigail breathing down his neck, and without the rest of the camp’s eyes on him, watching him and constantly reminding him of things he did and didn’t do in the past. It was suffocating.

But with [Y/N], John thought she was a breath of fresh air. She only joined the gang for about a year but didn’t bother too much nosing around his past and about this whole thing with Abigail and Jack. She most probably heard the others talk about him, because that’s what they do – stick their nose in other people’s business as if they have nothing else better to do, but with her, she didn’t seem to mind at all.

[Y/N] was nice and kind-hearted, and John thought she was one of the few people he can be truly himself. It was like that with Abigail, but things are different now. Everything changed since she gave birth to Jack, and when John ran away for a year.

“Hey, John.” he heard Hosea greet him one early morning. He was beckoning for John to sit with him at the table. He let out a sigh as he accepted his invitation, thinking it’s going to be another one of Hosea’s lectures on why he needs to start acting like a father to Jack.

“How are you, John?”

“I’m fine.”

“And how did that train robbery go in Scarlet Meadows?” Hosea asked as he scribbled something on a piece of paper.

“It was a good haul, but ain’t good enough. The law turned up so fast, and I have this nagging feeling it could’ve been a setup.”

“Hmm, we don’t know that for sure.” Hosea rubbed his chin. “So, you’re heading to Valentine to see if there’s anything there?”

“Yep, that’s the plan. I’m heading out in a bit.” John confirmed, then asked.

“Good. See what you can find, and let’s hope we can make enough money for us to get out of here finally.”

“Don’t you ever want to retire, Hosea?” John asked Hosea curiously.

“Well, I did. After Bessie and I got married, we ran off for a while, y’know, but then I found myself slowly drifting back to this life.” Hosea answered, feeling nostalgic at John’s question.

“The thing is, John,” Hosea continued when John didn’t respond, “the thing is we all gotta die. I know that. I of all people know that.”

“Excuse me?”

“We all gotta die, but you got the chance to live, and not just to live but to live for love. Love is the thing, the only thing.” Hosea went on as if trying to prove a point to John.

“I got no goddamn clue what you’re on about, Hosea.”

“You are not as dumb as you act, John Marston,” Hosea said sternly.

“I don’t understand.” John was at lost for words.

“Be a man John. It would suit you.”

“It ain’t nobody’s business, but mine.” John defended, ‘what the hell is Hosea going on about now? Does he know?’

Hosea rose to his feet, and John didn’t know how to react when Hosea, suddenly called out to [Y/N] and gestured for her to come over. [Y/N] obeyed but her eyebrows furrowed as soon as she realised John was also there with Hosea.

“[Y/N], dear. Can you do an old man a favour and mail this letter for me, will you?”

“Ugh. Okay.” [Y/N] hesitantly agreed.

“Perfect, I also have a list of things here for the camp, just a few small things.” Hosea continued, handing her the piece of paper he was scribbling on earlier. “John here’s heading out to Valentine, too, to go look for some work. Thought it’d be safer for you if you two can ride together.”

***


	15. The Angel and The Wolf

It’s a setup, you concluded. Why did Hosea ever put you up to this, and why did you even agree to this in the first place, anyway? Now you’re mounted up your horse and riding with the man you’ve been hopelessly in love.

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Your palms were clammy as you held on to the reins. Good thing, the early morning ride to Valentine and the dewy petrichor in the air were pleasant enough to calm your nerves. ‘You’re going to be fine,’ you reassured yourself.

“You’ve been taking good care of that horse. Got a name for it yet?” John’s low, husky voice broke the silence between you two. You realised you missed hearing that voice.

John was referring to the black Morgan you’ve been riding since Uncle saddled it up for you the day you went out to Flatneck Station.

“No, I haven’t thought of a good name for him yet.” You have thought of some, but just never gotten around to ever picking one.

“Is it long?” John asked you again.

“What?” you choked at the question.

“The list. Hosea’s list.” he clarified.

“Oh! No, not really. Just a couple of things to pick up at the goods store.” Your voice trailed off as you looked the other way to enjoy the view.

‘Very smooth, John. You bet she just wants to get this over with as soon as possible.’ John sighed.

Making another attempt at resuming your conversation, he cleared his throat before he asked you, “so how was swimming… with Javier?”

“It was alright, but that was mean of him, what he did.” You revealed to John, “I didn’t know you couldn’t swim until he told me that day. We were arguing about it.”

John was silent. You didn’t know what was going on his mind, was he embarrassed? ‘Did you say something wrong? Did I offend him?’ You asked yourself.

The pair of you slowed down your horses as you reached the post office in Valentine.

“Alright, this is my first stop.” You said, hitching your horse. You didn’t know the plan whether he’ll wait for you or you’re supposed to go on your separate ways from here. Hosea just threw you into this predicament, didn’t he?

“I’ll wait for you here.” John stopped. He got off Old Boy and casually lit a cigarette.

When you were done at the post office, you exited the building and saw John idling in front. He took one last drag from his cigarette and then crushing the butt beneath his heel. He brushed his lap as he stood up. You mounted your horses again and headed in the direction of the general goods store. You still remembered the way from the last time you were here.

“Are you going to take care of that thing you’re supposed to care of, or are you going to escort me the whole day?” You chuckled. In the inside, you were desperately attempting to ease the tension you were sensing between you two. It wasn’t you minded John’s company, but being alone with him, since the last time you two talked, was making you extremely self-conscious.

“I’ll take care of it, okay. Just thought I’d keep you company for a while. Hosea’s list is short anyway like you said.” He smiled at you, showing no intention of leaving you alone just yet.

“Okay then, suit yourself. Won’t be long.” You got off your horse then disappeared to the shop. After a few minutes, you re-joined John, who was now sitting outside. While you were inside, he was deep in thought, going over the livestock yard, auction yard, and the herd of sheep you passed by earlier. 

“Hey, I was going to look at something, will you come with me for a bit?” John asked as he rose to his feet. “Come on. It’ll look suspicious if it was just me.”

You agreed to help, he did wait for you here and earlier at the post office, after all, it’s the least you could do for him. You stowed your shopping in your horse’s saddlebag before following John. He crossed the muddy road and walked into the path between the bank and the hotel, and into the direction of the livestock yard you passed by earlier.

He stopped by next to the stables, where crates and haystacks were laid, and a chicken coop was nearby. In your direct view was a herd of sheep kept in the fences. John stood next to you, lighting another cigarette.

“What are we exactly looking at here, John?” You questioned him. He raised his hand and softly gestured for you to keep quiet, his eyes fixed on the sheep nearby. After a few minutes of waiting, of which you didn’t understand the point of still, John carefully resumed on the topic of you and Javier again.

“So, are you and Javier a thing now?”

“What? No. We’re just good friends.” Surprised by the assumption he has taken regarding you and Javier.

“’Cos the way I see it, [Y/N], he’s smitten by you,” John prodded further, “He just can’t take his eyes and hands off you.” He sounded irritated when he described the attention Javier’s been giving you lately.

“Whatever he feels about it me – uhm smitten or not,” the word felt weird when you spoke it, “shouldn’t be your business, now should it?” 

John didn’t say anything.

“There you go again, John. First Arthur, then Javier. Who’s next then? Lenny? Bill? Mr Pearson?” feeling annoyed at this habit of his. You remembered how his seemingly innocent prodding in Colter about you and Arthur, which was, by the way, the most ridiculous thing you’ve heard since you joined the gang, ended up with you two not talking for days.

Before he could say or answer anything, you took a deep breath and continued, “and every time we talk lately it… we end up being weird with each other. I hate that because I like talking to you, and I missed talking to you, the way we used to, John.”

“When you told me, you could tell me a lot of things about how you felt… about that kiss, what did you mean?” His eyes on yours, searching for some answers. John hadn’t forgotten about the last thing you told him before you walked out on him that day.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” you said, starting to feel embarrassed at the situation you’ve put yourself in.

“Well, I like talking to you too, we don’t have the others nosing about our business, do we?” John shrugged his holders and looked around to prove his point.

“John – I like you, okay? I liked you for a while now. I thought you’re kind and sweet, if you weren’t robbing trains and shooting people, that is, and I could see how, how Abigail chose you over the others, and I was selfish, and the last time we talked, I shut you down, I didn’t want to hear any of it, but I do understand, your… the situation’s complicated with Abigail and Jack.” You exhaled with relief, being able to say it out loud was cathartic, and for a moment there, you felt peace now that you’ve said what’s been weighing on you for the longest time. It didn’t matter how he’ll take it now; you’re prepared to hear the worst. You just wanted John back – you just wanted your friend back. It hurt more when the two of you are not talking to each other and even more when it seemed like you didn’t exist at all to him.

Before you could collect your thoughts after you just poured your heart and soul to John Marston, he leaned on to you and closed the space between you, with his calloused fingers, he tilted your chin up, his eyes boring onto yours, seeing his scars up close again, the ones you stitched yourself back in Colter. Your face felt warm at his touch and his body so close to yours. Your heart beat frenziedly, and your breathing erratic, you closed your eyes anxiously anticipating what was about to happen next. He leaned in further, his lips on yours, giving you a soft tender kiss. It was quite different from the last time.

John pulled back gently, and you opened your eyes again, your eyes desperately searching for some answers in his.

“I didn’t know you felt that about me.” He confessed, not exactly what you were hoping to hear first after he just kissed you. John was about to say something else when Arthur Morgan walked in on you two, you instantly pulled back further, putting some slight distance between you and John, your face flushed with embarrassment “Did Arthur just see us?’

“Mixing pleasure with business now, are we Marston?” Arthur mocked him. He always enjoyed antagonizing John.

“We’ll talk more later, okay?” John whispered to you, squeezing your hand with his and letting it go as Arthur joined you two. You were looking forward to it, but somehow a dreadful gut feeling was telling you that that won’t be happening anytime soon.

***


	16. My Name is Leviticus Cornwall

You took a deep breath. When Hosea called you to come over and asked you to ride with John to Valentine to pick up some things for him, you thought this morning couldn’t get any weirder.

You were in Keane’s Saloon, seated across Dutch and Herr Strauss. On another table not far from yours was an older man, pass out drunk. Other than the bartender, your group, and the solitary drunk man, the saloon was empty.

Before Arthur and John rode out of Valentine to ‘collect something’, John asked you to wait for him here, with the Van der Linde gang leader. He thought it was the safest option rather than have you riding back to camp on your own. John certainly felt like he’s just won a prize, and he didn’t want to take any chances by letting it out of his sight.

One hour and a half tops, he promised, then the two of you can ride together back to the camp. He thought it might be good to take a detour on the way, so you and he can have some privacy. He knows how the gang can be, and there’s Abigail.

Dutch and Herr Strauss were debating on the subject of morality and absolutes, while your eyes were on the shot glass filled with whiskey in front of you. Strauss had poured it for you out of courtesy when you joined them. You weren’t paying attention to any of them, though, as your mind was far away. It was just this morning that you finally confessed to John after all. You were slightly regretting that of all the places you had to confess to John. It had to happen in a barn, surrounded by chickens and haystacks, with the smell of manure in the air and the sound of sheep baaing and chickens clucking in the background – hardly the ideal and romantic place for these things. Nope, not exactly as how you’d imagined it in your head.

‘John didn’t exactly say he liked you back, now did he. But why the hell would he kiss you then and hold your hand like that? You don’t kiss people and hold hands with people you don’t like. Oh, and Arthur, of course, he had to walk in on you and see the whole thing’ Your mind was in shambles, quite the predicament John Marston has thrown you in. You groaned as you took the shot of whiskey that was sitting in front of you for some time now.

***

A few miles outside of Valentine, Arthur and John were riding towards Emerald Ranch. John had been evasive about the details of this job, much to his annoyance. Even more when he was asked to pick up a rolling block rifle at the gunsmith earlier, to which John hasn’t given any clear explanation for yet.

All he knew, as John put it, was that they were going steal some sheep then sell them at the auction yard back at Valentine. ‘Easy money, right?’ he added.

“I hope you’re not forgetting about that boy you have to raise, Marston.” Arthur jabbed at him. He hasn’t forgotten yet about the scene he just witnessed between the two of you – the kissing and the hand holding. ‘What the hell was that all about?’ His interest was piqued; after all, he was the first person you’ve let in on your secret. Arthur wasn’t entirely self-aware, but he did tend to nose around other people’s business.

“Excuse me?” John furrowed his eyebrows.

“You’re always playing some goddamn game.” Arthur shook his head, showing his disappointment in John.

“Me? I ain’t the one taking John on fishing trips!” John retaliated, getting agitated at where Arthur was going in this conversation.

“No, you ain’t! If you say the boy ain’t yours, what’s the difference? You’ll probably only run off again.” Arthur raised his voice.

“Why are you so interested in my life? Ain’t you got one of your own?”

“Look, John. Don’t you have things to sort out with Abigail first, before – before you start working your way to another girl’s pants? What’s the matter with you, boy?” Arthur lectured him. “Just do one thing or another. Not be two people at once, that’s all I’m saying.”

John fell silent. He doesn’t have the time for this discussion. They were on a job for god’s sake. He and Abigail were long over. Sure, he loved her, but that’s all in the past, he insisted. With Jack now, that has complicated things between the two of them, and he isn’t entirely even sure if the boy is his, to begin with. He knows it was one big mess that he needed to face sooner or later, but he didn’t need anyone badgering him about it, especially Arthur.

Right now, he only had one thing in mind, and one thing only – and that was you. He just badly wanted to get this job done so he can go pick you up at the saloon and the two of you could finally talk. He did want to smack himself in the head realising that when [Y/N] just confessed to him, he didn’t even say or do anything, except kiss her and tell her ‘I didn’t know you feel that way about me.’ Then Arthur had to show up. God knows there were a million things more he wanted and needed to say to her.

***

After an hour or so had passed, you have downed about a bottle and half of beer and that one shot of whiskey earlier. You had no intention of getting drunk this time of day, let alone get drunk and wasted in front of Dutch and Strauss, but you needed to pass the time as you waited for John. Plus, Dutch was keeping a close eye on you as you ordered one bottle of beer after another.

As promised, Arthur and John came back, an hour and a half after they left you in Dutch’s good hands. Your bored flushed face lit up as soon as you saw John enter the saloon after Arthur. John’s eyes searched the room, and he smiled when your eyes met.

“Where have you been?” Dutch demanded as the pair approached your table.

“Working --- Marston’s thing,” Arthur answered. John hasn’t taken his eyes off you since they got there.

‘Could he make it any more obvious for Dutch and Strauss?’ Was what was in your mind. You’re head over heels for the guy, but you’re not keen on letting everybody know (just yet), especially the Van der Linde gang leader. You looked down at the table, avoiding John’s gaze.

“Good! And?”

“We’re just waiting to get some pay, on… a few sheep.”

“Leopold, my good friend, as long as you are here. Why don’t you and John go make sure there ain’t no funny business, and you Ms. [Y/L/N] ride with them back to camp.” Dutch ordered, dismissing the three of you. He asked Arthur to stay for a round of drink. You stood up and joined John and Herr Strauss.

Dutch couldn’t understand or make any of what John was whispering to you as you were exiting the room. Still, he did start to get suspicious when he caught John fidgeting with his hand, seemingly having an internal debate whether to put it behind the small of your back or keep it beside him.

“So, what’s going on with those two?” Dutch asked Arthur, his eyes narrowed. He pointed to you and John with the bottle that was in his hand.

“Beats me, Dutch. Beats me.” Arthur took a slug of whiskey, feeling relieved to finally get some break after all the running, and shooting, and herding John made him do today.

***

“We’ll just stop by the auction yard. Then we can head home. Pretty sure Hosea’s wondering where you are now.” John whispered to you. You nodded with a smile. You’re just glad they’re back safe and sound. In this line of work, it was uncommon to not worry for them when they set out robbing trains, stagecoaches, banks, making a lot of enemies along the way.

The smile on your face quickly faded, as you saw the group of armed men standing in front of you, their guns aimed at the three of you.

A sharply dressed older man with grey receding hair, on horseback, seemed to command them. There was no going about it. You were outnumbered, you were all instantly dead should you make one wrong move. With one gesture from the man, the armed men seized you three, disarming John and Strauss. A look of horror crossed your face and John’s when the man who held you started to drag you forcefully away, separating you from your companions.

“Van der Linde!” The elderly man roared. “You don't know me, but you keep robbing me!”

“My name is Leviticus Cornwall. I am not a man to be messed with by the likes of you.” He introduced himself.

***


	17. Hogtied

There was darkness, then shimmers of light, then darkness again – before that, there was John, running, screaming, and shooting, braving through hellfire for you but you were just running so fast, farther and farther away from him, until you couldn’t see him anymore. A trickle of blood fell from your temple to your lips. You knew it was blood because of its taste and smell, the scent of which was pretty familiar to you by now.

When Leviticus Cornwall demanded Dutch Van der Linde come out and show himself, he had other plans for you. If the notorious outlaw did survive this, at least he’ll have one of them. He can feed you to the Pinkerton hounds and hunt Van der Linde and every last one of you. They can torture you and make you know all different kinds of pain until there was nothing left for you to do but sing.

“Deal with this nonsense,” Cornwall ordered.

“Take the girl.” He signalled to the man who had his arm tightly around your neck and a gun to your temple. You kicked and struggled and whimpered realising that wasn’t getting you anywhere. You looked at John, only to see that he was also in the same situation as you. He was disarmed, and Cornwall’s men simply outnumbered all of you. Anger, panic, and fear in John’s eyes as he helplessly watched you get hauled, struck, and hogtied; your unconscious body stowed on a horse. He swore he’ll come and get you and put a bullet in each one of them the second he breaks free.

***

There were shimmers of light, and your stomach ached as you felt the full weight of your body on it. It hurt even worse at each gallop. Your wrists burned against the rope that bound your hands together behind your back.

You didn’t know how much time had passed since you were struck unconscious, but as what you gathered from the smell sans the mud, manure, and livestock, you figured you weren’t in Valentine anymore. When you run with outlaws, and you find yourself hogtied and stowed at the back of the horse and taken to god knows where by said group’s enemies, the chances of coming out of this alive are relatively slim.

Then there were deafening gunshots, and your abductors collapsed, the horse that was carrying you darted at the explosions, and you immediately fell to the ground.

‘John?’ desperately hoping it was him as the, then this nightmare could be over.

You could hear the thumping of several pairs of boots on the dirt and the clanking of spurs drawing near. You realised it wasn’t John. There could be at least three of them. One of them crouched down and titled your face towards him. Your eyes squinted as they adjusted to the light.

“Well, well, well. Pretty little thing, aren’t ya?” A lean, elderly man, with stringy neck length grey hair, hovered over you.

‘That voice, where have you heard that voice before?’ then your world fell into darkness again right when you just started to remember.

The men didn’t cut you free, that would have been too easy. Your nightmare wasn’t over yet, as you vaguely felt being picked up again and stowed back on a horse.

***

“Shit, they got her. They fucking got her… I couldn’t save her; I couldn’t protect her.” John angrily shouted to his companions, as bullets rained upon them.

This shouldn’t have happened. Of all the subsequent mornings since Van der Linde gang robbed one of Cornwall’s trains, THIS has to be the morning that he finally caught up with you. John cursed as he fired his gun.

“We have to get out of here alive first. We can’t save her if we’re all dead.” Arthur reminded him.

“We will get [Y/N] back, John, but let’s get out of here first.” Dutch firmly assured.

***

You woke up with a sting in the head right where Cornwall’s guard had struck you with the frame of his gun, still disoriented as to the who’s, where’s, why’s, and how’s. You wanted to rub your eyes, but you realised they were still bound together, a sturdy rope connecting it to the iron pipe bed frame where your abductors had placed you. You wriggled, but they were never coming off unless someone untied you or cut it with a knife.

You looked around. It was dark, but the lamp on a nearby table illuminated the room enough for you to figure out that you were in a cabin, in disarray and poorly maintained, a cow skull hung on the wall. You were alone but not for long, that’s for sure. You started to cry, faced with the fact that this nightmare of yours could just be starting.

You froze when you heard footsteps approaching and the door creaking as it opened. It was the lean elderly man from earlier, he dragged a stool and placed it next to the bed. He sat across you. He smiled quite menacingly.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” The man asked. You felt sick to your stomach just hear his voice, your eyebrows furrowed, and confusion painted in your face, as you desperately tried to remember who the hell he was.

“You know I never got to repay your dad for his services when he took that bullet from me.” He said, gesturing to a spot on his arm where he remembers the bullet was lodged.

A plethora of emotions rushed in as you remembered that night – that night when this very man who’s sitting across you now and the outlaws he led invaded your dad’s office; that night when you watched your father get killed by this man, and that same night when your life has changed forever.

“How precious! We kill your daddy, and then you go running and sleeping with the likes of us!” He mocked.

“What do you want with me?” you cautiously asked. Although cornered and beaten, your eyes still wet with tears, you didn’t want to give this man the pleasure of seeing you cry and beg for mercy, for as long as your able to anyway.

“Let’s see if you worth anything to lure Dutch Van der Linde out of his hole, and if not, I’m pretty sure my boys can think of something.” He gave you his answer with a smile that is almost predatory. You flinched and closed your eyes when he stood up, fearing for the worst. He stroked your head, and it made you squirm in disgust.

But whatever nefarious plans this man had in store for you about them, this wasn’t the night for them. You realised this when he turned his back and exited the room where you were held captive, leaving you alone again.

***


	18. Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This is my version of the game mission Paying a Social Call. Kieran isn't cut free until the gang moved to Clemens Point. Oh, and please note that the reader is referred to in the third person in scenes where she isn't around. ~

Where to even begin? The question burned in John’s mind. He was growing more impatient and scared shit for [Y/N]’s safety, pacing back and forth as he awaited Dutch’s instructions, while the others scurried around packing up their things upon their leader’s announcement that it wasn’t safe for them in Horseshoe Overlook anymore. If by some miracle, [Y/N] is able to escape on her own and come back here, the gang would be long gone, and the thought terrified John even more.

Dutch ordered Charles and Arthur to head south and scout for a good spot for their next hideout. He turned to John next. He instructed him to start, discreetly, in the neighbouring areas of Valentine – most likely folks there might have seen something. After all, there was nothing inconspicuous about a group of men carrying a girl hogtied to a horse.

Hosea was quite perturbed by the news, deeply regretting sending her out to town that morning. The news distressed Javier, knowing [Y/N] was with John when she rode out to Valentine, he was quick to catch on what Hosea’s been trying to do. While the first and the easiest reaction would be to get lash out at John for not protecting her, Javier knew better than blame John and the others who were with her when she was taken. Instead, he insisted he rides with John to help look for her. Dutch agreed and informed them that Arthur would join them once things settled in their new hideout, wherever that may be. The Van der Linde gang leader then turned to the rest of them who were now starting to wonder where [Y/N] was, to break the sad news to them.

Amid the camp’s restlessness and urgency, Abigail turned left and right to look for John whom she expected to at least help them with their things, not taking her watchful eye from Jack who sat on top of the crates nearby. She spotted John by Old Boy, who appeared to have other plans as he looked like he was preparing to leave in a rush without even a word to her or his son. She stomped her feet in John’s direction.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Abigail demanded angrily when she stood next to him.

“Heading out to look for [Y/N],” John answered her.

“Why you!? We’re being hunted down and your son—” infuriated by his answer, she raised her voice once more.

“Goddammit, Abigail. I don’t have time for this.” He snapped. He was tired – first off, he just stole a herd of sheep – for nothing, he was caught in an ambush back in Valentine, fought off several men, narrowly escaping, and lastly, he just watched helplessly [Y/N] being taken by Cornwall’s men. Dealing with this immense guilt of not doing enough to protect her, to save her, and now this, John had reached his limit.

“Oh my god, so you love her now?” Abigail scoffed at him. She wasn’t blind. Jilted lovers were often more perceptive about these things. When John spurned her over and over again, she started to see the little things. At first. it was just those innocent flirting, throwing [Y/N] a smile now and again, and asking if she needed any help with the lifting and such, some things that she’s seen him do with other women at the camp, much to her annoyance, it became the reason behind their many heated arguments. But day in day out, when she’s been receiving nothing from John but disdain, contempt, and many ‘leave me alone,’ ‘I don’t have time for this,’ it was at that point that she knew that there was something more to those smiles and innocent flirting he threw at [Y/N]. More so, when she caught him sitting quietly in the corner, balling his fists, as he watched her welcome and revel in Javier’s attention and seemingly friendly affection.

“Just fuck off will you --.”

Clap! Abigail’s hand met John’s face. She stormed off as her slap left a red welt on where her hand landed. John rubbed it to ease the stinging, thinking he had nothing to say to her anymore. He was serious when he said he didn’t have time for this, every minute he spends standing there is a minute wasted - and when it’s someone’s life on the life, every minute counted. Javier joined him a few minutes later. Together, they mounted their horses and rode off into the night. They made their way north as the rest of the gang, in their wagons, headed south. The two barely spoke a word to each other since they separated from their group; however, both knew each other long enough to know what the other had on mind at the very moment.

“No te preocupes. We’ll get her back, brother.” Javier said to him reassuringly, momentarily breaking the silence between them. John only responded with a nod. They picked up their pace while keeping a safe distance from Valentine and the main roads in the surrounding area, as Dutch specifically instructed them.

That evening’s excursion and the next day’s did not yield any results. It wasn’t until the third day since [Y/N]’s kidnapping they learned, with the help of Trelawney and his network of discouraged men, that O’Driscoll’s boys have intercepted the men who had the girl. Cornwall and Van der Linde’s men stirred such a ruckus in Valentine. When Colm O’ Driscoll caught wind of this as well as the interesting bit of information that Cornwall’s men picked up one of Van der Linde’s, he saw a window of opportunity for them to get even with Dutch he captured one of their own too back in Colter – the one who went by the name of Kieran Duffy.

Kieran, after all these weeks riding with the Van der Linde, was still tied in a tree, sustained with the few unconsumed bits of stew in the bottom of Pearson’s pot from yesterday. At first, he insisted he didn’t know anything, fearing for his own life should the O’Driscolls find out he so much as rat them out. However, his jumpiness and squirming were easily giving him away to his captor. After Arthur, Dutch, and Bill’s ‘persuading’ and a pair of gelding tongs, Kieran finally squealed revealing that the girl, judging from the location where Cornwall’s men were found, is most probably held up in Six Point Cabin, one of the O’Driscolls’ hideouts strategically tucked away in the Cumberland Forest. The men carefully deliberated over this piece of information which was received with much suspicion and doubt. With having no other leads, Dutch took his knife and cut the boy loose, so he could lead Arthur to this hideout after they meet up with Javier and John. Before Kieran walked away with Arthur, the gang leader grabbed him by the collar and explicitly reminded him of what his boys will do with his balls should they find out he was lying and leading them into a trap. Bill morbidly demonstrated what their leader meant with the gelding tongs he held in his hand.

Arthur, with the O’Driscoll’s errand boy in tow, departed their new hideout in Clemens Point and rode north once more. When he caught up with the pair, they were holed up in an abandoned cabin outside of Valentine and were surprised to see the O’Driscoll boy with him. Arthur, upon arriving, wasted no time in keeping the two up two speed with the information they just squeezed out from their O’Driscoll.

“I told you, I ain’t an O’Driscoll,” Kieran muttered, getting tired with having to repeat himself over and over that he wasn’t one.

“So where exactly is this hideout you talking about?” John asked, eyeing him suspiciously. Kieran described the location to the best of his memory. His information was again received with the same suspicion and disbelief, but John and Javier couldn’t go on another sleepless night of searching for her. They needed to find her and fast. The men climbed their horses, with Kieran now behind John, to give him further directions towards their destination.

Kieran sensed the agitation and apprehension in the three heavily armed men with him, and their determination to protect one of their own whatever the cost. His mind wandered for a bit, wondering if any of the O’Driscolls would do the same for him, or any gang member in dire need of help or rescuing.

“I’m sorry… about what happened to your girl.” Kieran sincerely apologised.

“Oh, you will be, if they so much as lay a finger on her, pendejo.” Javier threatened him with a scowl. It was the first time Arthur heard the Mexican talk since he caught up with them. Come to think of it, although Javier and John had always gotten along. The older cowboy couldn’t shake the feeling of tension between them. Javier obviously, in John’s words, smitten by [Y/N] and wasn’t exactly discreet how he’d been showering her with his attention lately, and John, well thinking about what he just witnessed in the back of that barn in Valentine… his head started to hurt just thinking about how these two idiots are making their lives more complicated than they already are – John especially, the biggest idiot of them all, Arthur shook his head, as he silently judged John.

When they finally reached the side of the hill Kieran described earlier, they left their horses in the opposite side of the clearing and carefully followed Kieran to the top giving the group the vantage point to survey what they were up against. It was a camp alright, at least Kieran didn’t lie about that. Wagons and tents lay strewn in the area, where a log cabin also stood. About twenty to thirty O’Driscolls were there formidably armed but lucky for the trio, their opponents were either lazing about, asleep, or drinking.

They were outnumbered, but Arthur, Javier, and John, fully utilising the element of surprise to their advantage, snuck around and easily took down a good number of the O’Driscolls holed out there. A short gunfight broke, and when they have killed almost all of them, and those who didn’t get shot at, fled, Arthur reached the steps to the cabin, Javier and John were a few meters behind, followed him, desperate and anxious to see what’s behind the door.

They had the same thing on their minds, including Kieran, ‘Please let it be her… alive.’

When Arthur’s hand brushed the knob, the cabin door flung open, revealing an O’Driscoll charging towards Arthur pinning him to the ground. The man, who seemed to be the last of the Six Cabin Point lot, aimed his rifle at Arthur ready to fire. The O’Driscoll’s victory was short-lived as a bullet fatally landed on his chest, and his body flopped to the ground. John and Javier raced to his side. Arthur propped up his head and saw Kieran panting, his hand that held the gun was shaking – obviously, killing and shooting were two things he wasn’t used to doing, Arthur suspected Kieran hasn’t even done either before.

Having just been saved by O’Driscoll, he thanked him sincerely. He quickly picked himself up and together they entered the dimly lit room, and there they saw a familiar figure in one of the dark corners of the room, gagged and tied to the iron pipe bed frame; her exhausted whimpering muffled by the gag. John was the first one to rush to her. He knelt beside her and pulled out his hunting knife to cut her free, taking the gag off her mouth. She collapsed to him, her chest heaving and eyes bloodshot. As distressed John may be looking at the state she’s in and thinking what she just went through for the past few days, a significant part of his fears immediately vanished when he finally found her and that she’s alive and safe wrapped around his arms.

“John ---” she whimpered, shaking like a leaf, and crying uncontrollably.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now. Let’s get you home.” He whispered to her ear. She missed his voice so much. She thought she’d never hear it again.

***


	19. Your and Javier's Secret

The journey from Six Point Cabin to the Van der Linde’s new hideout was a long one. John told you that the gang left Horseshoe Overlook and moved further down south to a place called Clemens Point in Scarlett Meadows, as he recounted the events of your encounter with Leviticus Cornwall. He said you’d like it there, it was warm, and it was by the lake (though he isn’t a big fan of lakes and other bodies of water).

Unfortunately, as your new home was farther than it’s ever been, you realised you were not physically nor mentally prepared for the journey. When Arthur who was riding behind you and John, caught you struggling to keep awake on the road, slowly slipping side to side, with your arms slipping away from John’s waist, he suggested that you set up camp for the night and continue on your way home at first light tomorrow. The others agreed, seeing the exhausted state you were in. John and Javier were in bad need of some rest too after days of riding in search of you and with only a few hours of sleep, and poor Kieran would very much appreciate being able to sleep in a horizontal position again after being tied to a tree for weeks.

The group found a good spot to set up camp far away enough from Valentine where John and Arthur were still wanted, and should there be any trouble, either in the two-legged or four-legged form, John, Javier, and Arthur could easily fight them off.

Javier headed out to catch some rabbits for dinner, while Arthur watched over Kieran, who was starting a fire. John offered to set his tent up and bedroll for you, to which you shamelessly crawled into. The bedroll wasn’t the comfiest, but it was the comfiest you’ve lied on since you were taken to. You easily dozed off while the men stirred outside, indulging in idle chit-chat as they rested by the fire. Their voices fading away as you drifted off.

It wasn’t long before Javier came back with a skinned rabbit in each hand, and when you were just starting to dream, you’ve woken up to John’s gentle insistence that you eat something. You protested for a bit with the desire to sleep some more, but the grumbling in your stomach was telling you that you should do as John says.

“Good morning, Princess.” Arthur’s drawl was the first thing to greet you as you crawled out of John’s tent.

“Good evening, Arthur.” You politely greeted back, taking a seat on the space next to John, which he seemed to have reserved just for you.

Thinking about it, so much has happened in the last few days, and it felt weird where things were left off between the two of you – that kiss, the way he asked you to wait for him back in Valentine, how the squeeze of his hand felt around yours, and when he promised you’ll talk some more after, just the two of you; and all of these things taken into consideration, while he’s just there next to you.

Your relationship with John had been a plethora of emotions and confusion, at least on your part, that you know. Now you’re seated next to him just a few inches away. Your mind spun into the things that could be possibly running in his. He was, at times indifferent to you - when he went on ranting about Abigail and women to Javier, in front of you as if you didn’t even exist, and at the same time, he’s here - with you, probably riding for days to look for you. He’d go on about just being cold towards you and not talking to you for days. Then he’d make out with you in the most clandestine ways. You thought about the numerous times your heart got broken whenever you see him and Abigail together, at least on those instances when they are not fighting anyway. Even seeing little Jack, was a painful reminder to you that Abigail and him, as much as John denied the boy wasn’t his, shared something quite special a long time ago, even before you joined the gang. They may not look like it now with all their arguing and shouting at each other, but somewhere deep down, you knew John still cared for Abigail and Jack.

“Here.” You felt John’s elbow on your side. He held out his hunting knife with a piece of cooked rabbit meat stuck to the end of it. It was bland, as expected, but you devoured it up in seconds, realising you haven’t had a proper meal in days. 

“How ‘ya feeling?” Arthur asked.

“I’m fine. Thank you. Thank you… all of you for saving me.” You said to them. You owe your life to them, and if they hadn’t shown up when they did, who knows what the O’Driscolls have done to you by now. You shuddered at the thought.

“No trouble. You saved us a bunch of times. It’s the least we could do.” John cheered you up.

“How about we celebrate a little, huh?” Javier eagerly suggested, holding out a bottle of whiskey in his hand. A puzzled look on your face wondering if he was carrying that all this time. Javier casually explained that he was able to nick a few bottles from the O’Driscoll’s hideout. The others chuckled, impressed with Javier’s quick thinking.

There was one then two bottles passed around, and your male companions grew louder as the night grew darker, except for Kieran though who politely declined each time the bottle was passed to him. You took a more casual pace though, just taking a swig or two out of courtesy, but not enough to make you drunk or intoxicated.

You sat there with them, listening to their stories, from how Colm O’Driscoll and Dutch used to get along and how’s it like in Mexico, as far as Javier remembered anyway at least, and how he met Dutch while attempting to steal chickens. You were contented and at home (figuratively) surrounded by the people you’ve grown to love and truly care for. Other than your dad, you had no one else, and your mom died when you were young.

John sensed you shiver as the cold wind blew. He took off his coat and wrapped it around you. You felt your face blush at his sweet gesture.

“So, what’s the deal with you two?” Arthur blurted out; his drawl slurred. It was a question he’s been itching to ask since he saw you two kissing at the back of that barn in Valentine. Your heart skipped a beat at his sudden candour. Javier’s laughter trailed off, and he pricked his ears up, anxious to hear the answer.

“It ain’t any of your business, Arthur.” John gently brushed him off. It didn’t feel right to put you in that position the way he did. You lowered your head, avoiding Arthur’s suspicious gaze at all cost.

“You know I have a funny story. This girl --” Javier drunkenly chimed in. “So, I met this girl about a year ago.”

You were holding your breath, your heart raced, anticipating what Javier has to say next.

“She was nice, kept to herself mostly. You’d think she was aloof, but if you take the time to get to know her, she was kind. She’ll take good care of you. We got close.” The Mexican shrugged his shoulders. He was holding on to the bottle, dangerously swaying it in front of him as we went on his story.

‘Please, Javier stop.’ You silently begged him to stop. ‘Not now. Not ever.’ Scrunching up your eyes as if something were about to hit you hard.

“So, one night, we were drinking… boy, she had a few too many drinks! She was upset. She just lost her father and her home.”

John and Arthur darted their eyes in your direction. You could just really walk out now or tell Javier to stop, but you just sat there frozen. Javier caught you quite unexpectedly.

“And then, one thing led to another. We ended up having sex!” Javier laughed as he recounted his first and last tryst with you.

“I didn't know it was her first time, I panicked obviously, cos... she was still virgin, and the next day, it got awkward between us, but you know, we moved on, and we’re still good friends to this day. I liked her. Sadly, I don’t think it’s ever going to work out between us.”

“Why is that?” Kieran piped in, very much intrigued but utterly clueless about the context of Javier’s revelation that evening.

“Why!? Because she’s madly in love with this prick, who happens to be a coward.” He exclaimed, looking at John straight in the face.

“What the hell did you say?” John shot up from his seat, ready to grab and beat Javier.

“What I’m saying, _amigo,_ is that you ain’t her first. I was.” He sniggered, holding his thumb up to his chest, feeling proud of himself. He may be quite so amused with himself but the others, were not, especially you. You were fuming.

He was so amused with himself; he didn’t notice you rise from your seat and walk towards him until he felt your hand landing on his cheek, the impact was so intense you swore it just instantly sobered him up.

***


	20. Lo Siento Mucho

Had you been back home, storming off and shutting yourself from everyone else would have been as simple as disappearing into your tent and drawing its flaps down – but you weren’t exactly home, you were in the middle of nowhere. John’s tent didn’t exactly allow you the privacy you so badly needed after Javier just announced to everyone, including John, that you lost your virginity to him in one of your drunken follies. Given where you were and what you had at the moment, storming off meant walking a few steps away from the group and then awkwardly crawling back to John’s tent, burying your face in your makeshift pillow, as you let out internal screams.

“Dumbass. What’s the matter with you?” Arthur smacked Javier in the head. “I’d ask you to apologise to the lady now, but you’re drunk. You’re only gonna make it worse, so you better sleep. In fact, I think it’s about time we all hit the hay. We have an early day tomorrow.” He said to everyone as he stood up, slightly struggling to balance himself as he too had a few too many.

“The next thing I want to hear from you is ‘sorry’ to [Y/N] first thing morning.” Arthur’s voice was stern. He held a finger up. Javier only responded with a tipsy nod before crawling to his bed.

John, on the other hand, was still fuming at this point. He had many reasons to be – Javier humiliating you, calling him a prick and a coward, all those moments when he could only silently watch you and him from afar, and on top of it all, for the scheming bastard that he is for seducing you to bed.

His first instinct was to go after Javier, grab him by the collar, and punch him straight in the face, as he so rightfully deserved. However, before he could make any move, Arthur may have read his mind as the older cowboy now stood on his way, a grim look painted across his face firmly telling John, ‘Whatever you’re thinking, just don’t.’

His eyes narrowed, ready to protest Arthur’s sudden intervention, but then for a second, he realised it might be for the best. There was no honour in beating a passed out drunk after all, but damn, Javier’s not getting away that easy, John was resolute.

“Look at you idiots.” Arthur made a jab at John and John one more time before retreating to his bedroll.

From where you were, Arthur’s voice stood out; then it was followed by the solitary cracking of the fire against the eerie silence of the wilderness. Not hearing the voices of your male companions anymore helped calm your heart, and after a dozen tossing and turning, your eyelids felt heavier and heavier, your thoughts nonsensical. There was nothing left to do but freefall into sleep.

***

You woke up the next morning about the break of day, finding you were the first one up. You were slightly relieved as it meant some peace for you before you have to face everyone again. You took some ground coffee from Arthur’s saddlebags. Fortunately, there were some and made coffee for everyone before pouring yourself a cup. At the very least, as a consolation, you weren’t hungover this time.

After sipping the last few drops of coffee in your cup, you thought you’d get a head start on packing away John’s tent for him.

“Let me help you with that.” You heard Javier’s groggy morning voice from behind.

‘Of course. He has to be the first one up.’ you took a deep breath and let out a restrained, “Thanks.”

The two of you proceeded to take down the tent, which was much easier by the way than when you were doing it alone. Javier fixed his eyes on you, as you avoided his.

“I'm sorry about last night, Señorita.” He said, his voice genuinely apologetic.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You were quick to dismiss Javier. You were still mad at him for what he did, and you were not in any way prepared to talk things out just yet, especially not with the others around.

“I just really couldn’t sit there and watch ---"

“I told you, I don’t want to talk about it… Please, just leave me alone, Javier.” You pleaded with him.

You trusted Javier. The fact that you considered him as your closest friend since you joined the Van der Linde gang, made his actions last night, whether out of drunkenness or not, hurt even more.

That night with him was not a mistake. Sure, things couldn’t get any more awkward between the two of you the morning after, but in all honesty, you never saw your first time with Javier as a mistake or looked back and regretted he was your first.

About a year ago, you were alone and lost, running with a group of people who were strangers to you then. You desperately craved for comfort and companionship, and Mr Escuella just happened to be there, in the form of him by the campfire all by himself and cradling a bottle of bourbon. What were the chances? You couldn’t sleep, the others had gone to bed, the one on guard duty might have dozed off somewhere as you didn’t hear a peep nor a rustle from anyone else that night.

Contrary to how Arthur and John (including Kieran) have imagined what went down that evening following the Mexican’s revelation, Javier was actually gentle and caring despite his intoxication, and then passionate and raw, whispering sweet nothings in a language you barely understood as he reached euphoria in your embrace. Then morning came and many mornings followed that you eventually told yourself, it was never going to work out with you two. He had a thing with Tilly back then, plus it was no secret he enjoyed his whores as much as the next guy in Dutch’s gang, then John Marston came along.

“Hey.” John’s voice intervened as he approached the two of you. “She said to leave her alone.” He stared down at Javier, surprisingly sounding confident and more assertive this time upon hearing you dismiss Javier yourself.

After a few moments of tense silence, Javier looked at you one more time.

“Lo siento mucho, [Y/N].” He said before finally walking away, leaving you with John.

He asked you if you were okay. You nodded, then resumed packing away things in preparation for what remained of your journey home.

What was it then? Was it pride? Was it you cared so much about what John Marston would think of you after finding out you lost your virginity to his friend? Was the root of all the indignation directed at Javier your worry that John will like you less, or was it something else?

***

When you spotted a sign that said, ‘Welcome to Lemoyne.’ and when it felt noticeably warmer, Arthur announced you were near. “We ain’t much farther now.” He said.

John slowed Old Boy down a bit, and he turned his head to the side to ask you something.

“How about you and I go somewhere? There’s a town just near our camp. You can get yourself cleaned up.”

Now if only your virginity (or the lack thereof) had not recently been put into the spotlight, you wouldn’t be suspecting John’s proposal as anything that came with an ulterior motive.

“Alright, John. That’d be nice.” You nodded, shaking away any internal dilemma you were having on his proposal. Although, you knew the people back at camp are worried sick about you, but you thought, here was the man you've been pining for the longest time with an invitation to take you somewhere nice. Also, you didn't want to run into Javier again back home.

John maneuverer Old Boy next to Arthur’s horse, to tell him that you and he are going to take a little detour in Rhodes before heading to Clemens Point.

***


	21. The Angel and The Wolf Pt. 2

‘Mount View Hotel.’ The slightly faded, dirty sign on the building’s exterior read.

When compared to the more glamorous Grey-owned Rhodes Parlour House that stood further down the road, Mount View Hotel certainly had seen better days. However, along with the other structures that stood beside the rundown establishment – the general store to its left, and the Sheriff’s office right, it had its own unique charm.

John slowed Old Boy down, and the horse made its final stop by the hitching post in front of the building. He dismounted first before helping you down, his hands supporting your waist.

You shifted your attention from John who was now heading up the stairs that led to the hotel’s porch, where a group of patrons dressed appropriately for the weather hung idly about, to the nearby shops and houses along the street.

It was your first time in Rhodes. It was quaint, and dust permeated the air. The locals leisurely strolled under the heat of the sun, and music from a banjo accompanied by the Jew’s harp was playing in the distance. With the absence of the lingering smell of livestock and manure, gloomy weather, and perpetually muddy ground that mired your boots, you concluded you liked Rhodes a whole lot better than Valentine.

“Come on, [Y/N].” you heard John’s voice from the porch, bringing your attention from your sightseeing back to your companion. You walked briskly to catch up with him, and the pair of you head inside.

“Hey there. What can I get you?” The hotel owner behind the reception desk greeted you in his chipper southern accent, his eyes scanning the pair of you from head to toe. It might have been the obvious look on your face that said, ‘you weren’t from around these parts,’ that caught his attention or the days old, dried up blood splatter on your clothes. It wasn’t yours, though. It was most probably from Cornwall’s men you recalled.

“A bath for the lady, please,” John requested, approaching the hotel owner’s desk.

“Sure. I got someone warming it up for you already. Just head down the corridor there.” The hotel owner gestured, and you made your way there as he directed. Before you could go any further, John said he’ll be about while he waits for you. You gave him a nod, and you disappeared behind the door with a sign that said bath.

You locked the door behind you, then impulsively checked it again to know for certain it was locked. This was a public space, and this wasn’t your house. The last thing you wanted was strangers barging in and you in such a vulnerable position. You stripped, arranging your clothes into a neat pile, and submerged yourself into the warm soapy water.

‘This is nice.’ You sighed with relief. You begin to work on your hair, arms, and then legs, stripping them of dirt and grime with the soapy water. Your mind contemplated on the tumultuous past few days it had been for you, as steam fogged the room.

You might have dozed off, as the next thing you felt was your face half-submerged in water and that you were about to run out of air. You shot up, unaware of the time that passed since you fell asleep in the bath. You instantly grew worried about John, who did say he was going to wait for you. You scurried to dry yourself and slipped into your clothes before heading out to look for him.

“Oh, your friend got a room. Said he was gonna get some shuteye. The room’s up the stairs, 2B.” the hotel owner said when he saw you came out. You thanked him and made your way up the stairs.

When you found the room, the door was slightly ajar. You knocked lightly on the door, and when you heard no response, you peeked inside. You let yourself in quietly and found John on the bed fast asleep, his broad chest rose and fell as he let out soft and steady snores.

You walked to the other side of the bed, slowly and carefully so as not to disturb him in his sleep, only realising now that his last night’s sleep didn’t help him much because he offered you take his bedroll for the night instead.

Feeling unsure what to do next now that your ride home is asleep, you took a seat on the edge of the bed, opposite to him. Your eyes wandered on the man who was lying next to, feeling guilty as if you weren’t really supposed to. Living together in the same camp, obviously, you have seen him a couple of times asleep, but not as close as this – not this intimate.

“Hey there, beautiful.” He muttered. He stirred and squinted his eyes as they adjusted to the light.

You turned your head the other way at the sound of his voice, suddenly feeling ashamed that he might have just caught you admiring his well-developed, hardened physique, as he slept.

“Hey, John.” You greeted him as he adjusted himself into a sitting position. “Sorry, I kept you waiting. I might have passed out and lost track of time.”

“It’s fine. Didn’t mind getting some nap either.” He reassured you, shooting you a smile - one of those smiles that never failed to elicit a blush on your face. “How’re ya feeling?”

“I’m good. The bath helped. Thank you… Ugh, should we head back?” you asked, however, a tiny part of you didn’t want to yet. It was the same tiny part that wished you could stay here a little longer with him, against your better judgement. You knew all too well staying longer in this room, just the two of you was a dangerous business.

“I know, but I don’t want to,” he admitted. You fell silent, not willing to admit just yet that you felt the same.

“Hey, [Y/N].” he brushed your arm with his calloused hand. “I am glad to see you back.”

“I am glad to be back… and alive. I have to thank you and the guys for that.”

“That last time in Valentine. We was gonna talk, and we never got to.” he bitterly recalled. “I hope that moment ain’t passed you yet but what I was gonna say is,” he took a deep breath before continuing, “I like you, [Y/N] – a lot. For a while now, mighta been since Dutch brought you in.”

Confused and caught off guard at the suddenness of his confession. This was John Marston - the man has been giving you the most undecipherable signals since day one. He’d be friendly with you on some days, and on some, he’d casually flirt with you like his girlfriend and son didn’t exist. Mostly, you swore John couldn’t care less about you, and then again he’d worry about you so much he’d go after you when you rode out alone to get Reverend Swanson, and when you were kidnapped, he’d ride for days in search for you, and kill every O’Driscoll who took you. Your head spun as you tried to process what you were hearing from him.

“It just drives me hella angry when I see you with Javier and a whole lot more that I couldn’t do anything about it, and just watch you getting swept off your feet by that… that –”

“I… But Abigail and Jack. What about them, John?”

“I know. I’m sorry. My situation with Abigail is complicated. The only reason why I said what I said last time was I had to stay away from you. I am sorry if I hurt you back then. The last thing I want to do is drag you into this mess and… and end up hurting you. I just don’t…”

“What do you want then?” you shot him a curious look, anxiously waiting for his answer.

He gave you this intense look when you asked him. “I want you [Y/N]. And if it means getting shot at or bushwhacked by O’Driscolls, or… or Cornwall’s men. I wouldn’t mind it, as long as I have you to take care of me.”

John let out a nervous laugh. You sensed some relief in him that he finally got to say what he’s been wanting to say to you for the longest time.

“Wow. First, that bullet in Blackwater, then you get your face half-eaten by wolves. You must really love me.” You giggled, playfully going along with him before continuing, trying your best to pretend your heart wasn’t just about to explode out of your rib cage. “I want you too, John, but as you said, it’s complicated.”

“Then, let’s un-complicate things.”

“I wish things were that simple.”

“Look. Abigail and me, we happened, but that was a long time ago. Jack ain’t mine – I ain’t sure if he’s mine. But _me and her_ , it’s a different story now. If I did love her. I don’t love her now. All I want is you, [Y/N].” He said with much conviction, pulling you closer and closer to him, bringing your face in front of his, and your lips willingly landed on his. Closing the gap between you, he began nibbling on your lips, drawing sensations throughout your body and your core, just as he did to you back in Horseshoe Overlook.

“John, this isn’t how you _un-complicate_ things.” You reminded, pulling your head a few inches away from him to catch your breath.

“I know.” He answered, his voice husky and slightly lower than his usual, but your reminder didn’t do much as it didn’t stop him from planting playful kisses on your lips.

When your futile protests were replaced with you kissing him back as intently and passionately, a sense of urgency started to build up in John as if he were consuming something so precious, so rare and fearing that it could vanish into thin air any minute.

His fingers pushed your damp hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear, before cupping your cheek with his hand. His fingers smelled strongly of cigarettes. “Losing you that day in Valentine… I just don’t want to lose you again, [Y/N].”

His eyes bore into yours before proceeding to kiss you again. You wrapped your arms around his neck to get even closer to him. That was your signal to him – if John wanted you right here right now, you were his to keep. God knows you’ve been dreaming about this moment for many nights, never thinking it would happen.

You decidedly shut off any internal voice screaming at you to stop before you do something you’ll regret later. Your mind demanded you turn around now, but your heart and your body were not hearing any of it. You gave easily in to John’s lust-driven touches and caresses. It made you weak - he made you weak.

Without breaking from the kiss, he held you by your waist, positioning you, so you lied underneath him, then planting his hands on either side of your head.

Your clothes and his became a discarded pile of mess on the floor. John paused for a second in admiration, savouring the view underneath him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He gave himself a few strokes, and you instinctively open your legs for him.

“Oh god, John!” you gasped, as he penetrated you, filling you up completely.

John’s thrusts were slow and gentle at first, and they grew forceful as he felt your wetness embrace him. Pleasured moans escaped your mouth, which did nothing but drove him over to the edge. He quickened his pace, sinking his teeth on the skin of your collarbone; it didn’t take long before you came undone and whimpering beneath him. Seeing what he had just done to you, he soon followed, shuddering as he came inside of you.

He pulled out and landed his body next to yours, burying his face against the crook of your neck. Your skin was hot and covered by a thin layer of perspiration, your sweat mixed with John’s, and both of you breathing heavily. Your heart was yet to calm down.

He hummed as the two of you lied there in each other’s arms and sweet bliss.

***


End file.
